


Harbinger

by Madnad



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:17:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 46,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8013442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madnad/pseuds/Madnad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bosmer archer, Lyara, makes her way through the frozen lands of Skyrim. She finds she can outrun her past, but she can't outrun her destiny. Forced into a role she did not want, she makes it through with the support of her new friends, her new family, and a new love.</p><p>*I wrote this story a few years ago after my first play through. The story roughly follows the main quest chain. I allude to the civil war, but don't delve into it deeply. I am considering a sequel that might cover this. Let me know if this would be well received or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Nords were a hardy race. They were considered little more than uncouth barbarians by many of the elvin races of Skyrim: the Bosmer, or wood elf; the Altmer, or high elf; and the Dunmer, dark elf.  For Lyara, however, they held a deep fascination, particularly the one sat in front of her right now.

Their appearance was startlingly different to what she had grown up with in Valenwood. Bosmer men were generally shorter than the women, and they had slight agile frames; nothing like the bulging brute strength that was often evident in Nords. Farkas was large, even by Nord standards. Unusually for a Bosmer, Lyara was taller than most Imperial, Redguard or Breton women. She was almost as tall as some Nord females, but Farkas still dwarfed her. It was often the cause of ridicule from other members of her village.

Another fascinating difference between the people of her birth and Nords was body hair. Apart from the hair on their head and faint arched brows, Bosmer, as a race, were completely void of body hair.  It enthralled her that despite Farkas regularly running a blade across his chin, there was always stubble darkening his strong jaw, as thick and as jet black as the hair on his head.  Gentle eyes were hidden from her view by thick dark brows and long lashes, but she knew them as well as she knew her own. They were a clear blue, the colour of ice water.

There was more hair visible on his forearms, which captured her attention. The wood elf was mesmerised as he fiddled with some kindling, and she stared at the muscles rippling beneath.

*

Farkas stared unblinkingly into the centre of the small fire he had lit so they could cook the rabbit Lyara had shot for supper. The flames flickered and sputtered in the dusk breeze. The two of them had set up a small camp in a dip behind a large outcrop of rock on the plains. The intense orange light of the sun was fading as it quickly disappeared behind the horizon, and twinkling stars were starting to appear in the darkening sky.

Deep in thought, he poked at the fire with a stick causing a tiny flurry of bright embers to float off into the night. His mind replayed scenes of their battle within the bandit’s refuge.

Their mission had been successful, and they had retrieved the piece of Wuuthrad’s axe as instructed. As was his habit, replaying the fights in his head gave Farkas an opportunity to try and learn from any mistakes he had made, and consider ways he could have done things differently.

His mind strayed back to when him and the new recruit had been surrounded by four Silver Hand bandits. He had felt quite comfortable with Lyara at his side when they entered the refuge, confident that she would not be a liability as she had already proven her abilities in previous jobs she had done for the Companions. His concern at the time had been to dispatch the bandits as quickly as possible, as he was aware that Lyara’s true strength as a warrior lay with her skills as an archer. Never had he seen someone as adept as Lyara with a bow. She even rivalled his old friend and shield-sister, Aela.

As he fought two opponents, he had seen from the periphery of his vision that Lyara hung her bow quickly over the quiver on her back as soon as they were surrounded. She released a catch to free a small but mean looking axe that hung from her belt. She moved with an otherworldly grace, and despite being in full armour, nimbly avoided the blows of her attackers.

When she had first appeared in Whiterun a week earlier asking to join the Companions, he had been mildly curious why this unusual wood elf was interested. His elder twin brother, Vilkas, seemed to take an instant dislike to the woman. Farkas admired her spirit, and was amused by the way she had stood up to his brother. Following a few simple tasks, the de facto leader of the Companions, Kodlak, had agreed to let her join, but he had asked Farkas, an experienced Companion, to escort her on one more job, to prove that she was honourable, brave and trustworthy.

*

Lyara and Farkas hadn’t spoken much on the journey out to the bandit's refuge, but with a bond formed in battle, they were now much more relaxed in each other’s company as they sat around the small camp fire. As Lyara watched the reflection of the flames dance in his eyes, she recalled how embarrassed she had been when Kodlak had insisted it was Farkas that would accompany her.

She had felt an instant attraction to the huge Nord when she first met him and Aela fighting a giant outside the gates of the city of Whiterun. She should have been relishing this opportunity to spend time with the warrior, but she was still eager to prove herself to the Companions, and feared she would embarrass herself.

There had only been one small mistake on her part. In her naiveté, she had stupidly managed to trap herself in a cage by pulling a lever. The embarrassment had been short lived and quickly turned to fear for her shield-brother's safety as half a dozen Silver Hand bandits, no doubt attracted by the sound of the falling cage door, had surrounded him.

‘Which one is this?’ one of the bandits asked, as they closed in around him.

‘It doesn't matter. He wears that armour, so he dies!’

She futilely rattled the cage bars, desperate to come to the aid of her shield-brother but her bow was the other side of the bars. She would not be able to face the Companions again if Farkas had died because of her stupidity. She had no doubt in his skill, and knew he would put up a good fight, but he was greatly outnumbered. Her anguish turned to confusion when his first move was to shed his steel breastplate.

This also momentarily confused his aggressors, and they looked at their leader wondering what to do. Their attention was brought back to their prey when, with the horrific accompaniment of popping joints and rending muscles, he quickly transformed into a huge werewolf.

The dark beast towered over them; all muscle, teeth, fur and raw aggression. Vicious claws glinted in the torchlight at the end of long muscular arms that quickly eviscerated the bandits. His enemies dispatched, the massive lupine head turned to her. Lyara saw recognition in those bestial ice-blue eyes before the creature loped off round a corner down a nearby corridor.

Lyara's heart thundered in her chest. Confused and unsure what to do, she paced her cage. Relief left her body in an audible whoosh when the door trapping her was lifted. From around the corner, with a hangdog expression, a very naked Farkas came striding into view.

Without a word, he stepped through the gore of the eviscerated bandits and reached into his pack where he fished out a spare breechcloth and vest. His previous underclothes were now nothing more than shreds having been destroyed during the transformation.

‘Hope I didn’t scare you,’ he said with a wolfish grin as he dressed.

Lyara's eyes were momentarily held by the sight of his well-developed chest, and she found herself staring at the generous scattering of dark hair that spread across his pectorals and down between the deep ridges of his abdomen. Lyara blushed at her behaviour and she quickly turned away to give him some privacy.

‘No,’ she answered, when it finally registered that he was talking to her. His beast form had not scared her. She had been more terrified that he had been about to be run through by a bunch of miserable Silver Hand, but she was not going to tell him that. _So_ _he was a werewolf then?_ she thought. _And probably not the only one._ It explained why the Silver Hand all carried silver-coated weapons.

‘Are all the Companions werewolves?’ she had asked, curiously.

‘No, just a small trusted circle,’ he replied, as he strapped on the earlier discarded armour.

She thought about his answer for a second. ‘Could I become a werewolf?’

Farkas looked at her in surprise, but chuckled. ‘Keep your eyes on the prey, sister, not on the horizon.’

‘Very wise words, brother,’ she said, with a sheepish grin picking up his heavy sword from where it had dropped. ‘You know, you are not nearly as dumb as you look.’

With a smile, she threw him his weapon which he caught with one large hand, and she made her way past him to the corridor.

‘Most people think I am dumb,’ he said. ‘Those people get my fist, but you ... I like.’

*

She smiled to herself a little, at the recollection of his earlier words. Broke from her reverie by a loud crackle of burning wood, she frowned when she noticed that she had over cooked their supper. Cooking had never really been her strong point.

She stopped turning the rabbit on its spit and offered the end with the cremated animal towards Farkas, saying it looked done.  He tore away half, his fingers seemingly unaffected by the heat, and then motioned that Lyara should have the remainder. When she protested saying she was not hungry, he told her that she had to eat something to keep her strength up.

*

Farkas was amused by her zeal, and admired her fervent enthusiasm to get on with the next challenge, but she had to learn to take care of herself too. She had to learn to rest and eat when the opportunity presented itself. In this life, you never knew when and where the next fight was. He nodded to himself. She would make an excellent Companion, and he would be telling Kodlak so as soon as he got the opportunity.  He watched her hungrily attack the rabbit, and took the chance to observe her unnoticed while she ate.

She was uncharacteristically tall for a Bosmer, and while not willowy, was certainly more slender than stocky Nord women. She carried herself with grace and confidence, and was able to move in almost silence, even when in full armour. Her skin was pale, much paler than most elves he had ever met, who generally had a swarthy skin. She had thin brows that arched above large almond shaped eyes. Her high cheek bones could have looked austere, but they were softened by her full lips. Long dark hair hung to her shoulders, with the top section fastened back from her face in a small braid. A very Nordic style he mused. With her helm on, she could pass for a human, even a Nord. However, her red irises and pointed ears gave away her true elfin ancestry. Farkas had to admit however, she was easy on the eyes.

The temperature had dropped, and he noticed Lyara huddled tightly into her cape as they rode back to Whiterun. Skyrim was the most northern province of the continent of Tamriel, and although it was autumn, the cold wind already whispered promises of winter.

Farkas steered his horse to ride close alongside hers, so that they could talk. He wanted to know about the magic she had performed as they fought in the rebel’s retreat. He wasn’t even sure it had been her at first, until he had seen their enemies scattered and buffeted by the force of her voice. He knew that most elves had some kind of latent magic, even those not trained in the magical arts. She had healed a deep cut to his arm not an hour ago, and had blasted flames from her hand when cornered. But what she had done in there—that was a new magic unlike any he had ever seen.

‘Thanks for healing my arm back there.’

‘You’re welcome. Maybe you could keep the fact I managed to get myself locked in a trap just between us, we can call it even?’ she laughed sheepishly.

Farkas chuckled, and nodded his agreement. ‘What was that other magic you did? I have known a few magic wielders but none had an ability like that.’

He watched as Lyara pulled the cloak tighter around her to buy herself a few more seconds as she seemed to struggle how to respond to his question. ‘I think it might help if I start at the beginning, and explain the circumstances surrounding my arrival in Skyrim.’

*

Lyara stirred from unconsciousness, and found herself bound and sat in an Imperial wagon with little memory of how she had gotten there. Several others were sat in a similar state, including a self-confessed horse thief who was complaining loudly that he shouldn’t be there, that it was the Stormcloaks the Empire wanted, not him. His protestations fell on the deaf ears of their captors as the rickety wagon pulled into a small town.

‘Where are we?’ she asked her fellow prisoners.

‘Helgen,’ answered a handsome blond Nord sat to her left. She stared at the fortified town with mountains on one side, and forest the other. There was a soldier watching the approaching cart from the path ahead. This was no ordinary soldier though. She could tell by the ornate armour, his neatly cropped grey hair and his bearing that he was a leader of some kind. He stood straight, despite his advanced years, and watched them with shrewd eyes

She heard a soldier exiting the fort shout over. ‘General Tullius. The headsman is waiting.’

‘Let's get this over with,’ the General replied and he beckoned his men towards the cart.

She was pulled roughly from the back of the cart, and a guard started calling out names looking for Stormcloak rebels. When asked by a Captain for her name he found it was not on the list, but despite this, the Captain insisted that she should be executed anyway.  

The horse thief's panic got the better of him, and Lyara watched impassively as he suddenly ran back towards the gate, his hands still tied, screaming they would not kill him. Before he reached the walls, an arrow sank deep into the centre of his back, and he collapsed, silent and forgotten. The prisoner next to her was the large blond Nord who had spoken to her earlier. He told the guard his name was Ralof.

The next prisoner seemed to be familiar to the soldiers. He named himself as Ulfric Stormcloak. She heard someone refer to him as the Jarl of Windhelm. _Why would they be executing a Jarl?_ she wondered.

The puffed up Captain began to lecture Ulfric, as the proud Nord ignored him. He was accused of being the leader of the rebel Stormcloaks, the prisoners that had been held with her. The Captain’s belittling words halted when the air shook with an eerie cry that echoed off the mountain walls surrounding the small town. The blood drained from the faces of those around her. No one knew what it was, not even Lyara, but she instinctively knew they were right to be frightened.

Eager for this gory business to be over with, the Captain grabbed a prisoner and led him to the executioner's block. Lyara grimaced as the huge headsman cleaved his head off in one clean strike of his huge halberd. The next name called was hers. Lyara briefly considered running, but knew she would suffer the same fate as the horse thief. _Better to die with some dignity than with an arrow in the back_ , she thought as she was pushed to her knees.

She felt the cold of the stone beneath the warm wet blood still covering the block from the previous prisoner. The grotesque headsmen lifted his enormous axe with arms the size of tree trunks. Just as he was about to bring it down on her neck, another roar ripped through the still morning air. With the flap of huge wings, a colossal beast landed atop a nearby building. A dragon.

The execution stopped, and the guards ran around in chaos. Lyara looked up, and for a moment felt the baleful stare of the great beast directly upon her. Its leathery wings were draped over the top of the building, tipped with steel-sharp claws. It opened its maw and a searing jet of flame engulfed the square, causing soldiers and prisoners alike to scatter. She rolled out of the way with a fraction of a second to spare. Even though her hands were tied, she managed to get to her feet and immediately started running. When she looked up, the dragon launched itself with a few strokes of its mighty wings, and swooped low over the buildings leaving a trail of fiery destruction in its wake.

Lyara took shelter in a nearby tower. Unsure where to go, she foolishly ran upstairs after a few of the other prisoners. They were half way up the staircase when the stone wall crumbled inwards, large chunks of rock crushing the few prisoners at the front. A huge reptilian head pushed its way through the gap, and cold eyes seemed to be searching. When it saw her, it filled the stairwell with its flame before flying off once more. Lyara was slightly burned, and her clothes were blackened with soot, but other than that, she was surprisingly alive.

Her way ahead was blocked by fallen rocks, and below her the staircase had collapsed, the tower floor was littered with burning debris. The other surviving prisoner, Ralof, told her to jump through the hole in the wall onto the roof of the inn below. Seeing this as her only option, she jumped.

She crashed through the damaged roof below and landed with a thud into a bedroom. She sprinted down the stairs after the blond Nord. The two of them dashed across the open courtyard, and Lyara could see that the dragon had already done a massive amount of damage in just a short time.

‘Stay close to the wall,’ her companion shouted as the beast's shadow crossed their path. It landed above them and tried to snap its mighty jaws at her, but they ducked between the town wall and a building.

 _Is this thing following me?_ she wondered. Maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed to be targeting her. She ran to keep up with Ralof, who led her towards Helgen Keep. Once inside the fortified building her companion turned towards her.

‘Let me remove those binding,’ the rebel offered.

She turned her back to him and he untied her hands. ‘Where now?’ she asked as she rubbed her wrists.

Her companion was knelt next to a body. A Stormcloak she guessed by the armour. ‘I will see you in Sovengarde, old friend,’ he murmured quietly.

He stood and looked at her. ‘You may as well take his armour. He has no need of it now.’ Lyara had no armour as the Imperials had taken it, so she quickly removed the battered armour from the corpse and fastened it over the singed woolen shift and leggings she was wearing. She then followed Ralof as he led her down some stairs into a basement.

He walked through a large room used to store barrels of food. Lyara realised how hungry she was, but turned her nose up at the slightly overripe apples.

Ralof rattled a door, muttering about needing a key. His curses were stifled when they heard someone approaching. They crouched either side of the door just before two Imperial soldiers walked through. Lyara grasped the axe firmly she had lifted off the Stormcloak corpse earlier and attacked the nearest soldier, while Ralof took on the other.

Their enemies quickly dispatched, Lyara rifled through the pouch on the belt of the soldier she had killed. She found a key which she threw towards Ralof. He tried it in the door, and smiled in relief when it opened.

They jogged through a series of tunnels that became more and more cave-like as they travelled further under the mountains. When they finally emerged into daylight, there was no sign of the dragon anywhere. Ralof said that it was probably better to go their separate ways. He wanted to go seek his leader, Ulfric, but he pointed her towards a small village a few miles ahead called Riverwood.

 _It's been an interesting first day in Skyrim_ , thought Lyara as she jogged towards the village.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyara completes her induction into the Companions, and receives an unusual gift

When Lyara arrived in Riverwood, she was befriended by Delphine who ran the Sleeping Giant Inn with her husband, Orgnar. She showed kindness to Lyara when the wood elf first arrived in the village covered in Imperial blood and talking of dragons.  Anyone else would have probably called the city guards, and had her incarcerated as a mad woman. Lyara stayed at the Inn while she sorted her affairs, and reclaimed her belongings. The two women spent a few long evenings talking about the state of Skyrim, the Thalmor, and the dragons.

When word got around Riverwood that she had been in Helgen during the dragon attack, the villagers implored her to warn the Jarl at Whiterun of the danger. Hesitant at first because she knew that she would have trouble explaining her presence in the town, she eventually relented as she felt that she owed the villagers this service in return for the kindness they had shown her.

When she arrived at Whiterun, Jarl Balgruff decided that as she was the only person with any experience of dragons, she should accompany his bodyguard, Irileth, to follow up rumours of a sighting of such a beast at the nearby Watch Tower.

*

Lyara's storytelling was interrupted by Farkas snorting at the mention of Irileth.   
  
'Ha! I am all too familiar with that sour-faced bitch. She does not like the Companions, fearing that we would side with the rebel leader Ulfric and the Stormcloaks against her Jarl if the civil war that is brewing in Skyrim ever comes to a head.'  
  
'Would they?' Lyara enquired. 'Would they side with the rebels?'  
  
Farkas shrugged. 'Probably.'

Wanting to hear the rest of her tale, Farkas apologised for the interruption and remained quiet. He watched Lyara's brows knit together in concentration and she took a deep breath as she gathered her thoughts before continuing with her story.

*

The rumours had appeared to be true, as a dragon attacked the party when they approached the Tower. The creature swooped and dove, and several of the guards were roasted by its jets of flame. This dragon was much smaller than the giant beast that had attacked her in Helgen, but it was no less dangerous.

Between Lyara, Irileth, and the remaining guards, they managed to do enough damage to finally bring the beast down. It had not been an easy fight and there were many injuries sustained among the survivors. They lost a several guards to the fiery breath of the dragon. Lyara herself had suffered some nasty burns, but she managed to heal herself.

When the curious survivors approached the dragon’s corpse, it started to spontaneously incinerate in front of their eyes. Patches of reptilian flesh glowed like embers before crumbling into white-grey ash. The guards scattered, fearing some further injuries, but Lyara found herself rooted to the spot, entranced by the small pieces of ash floating skywards off the gigantic carcass. With a sound like rushing winds, a swirling essence rose from the bones. Spirals of ethereal colours danced in the air above before swooping down and rushing into her from all directions.

Lyara paused her story, unsure what to say next. This was the first time she had talked to anyone about what she had experienced. She wasn’t sure why she was talking about it now, but she found Farkas easy to talk to.

She described the feeling to be like that of static running through her body. It had not been painful, yet was not entirely pleasant either. A rush of power had flown through every fibre of her being, and tingled right to the tips of her fingers.  When the phenomenon had finished, before she had even had a chance to contemplate what had just happened, she had felt a tremendous pressure build in her chest and instinctively released it as a shout.

A blast of sound had emanated from her, causing the few guards nearby to be pushed along the ground by some invisible force. In awe and fear, they had immediately started calling her Dragonborn in hushed reverential voices, as the power of the _Thu’um_ , the Voice, was theirs by right.

Lyara looked at Farkas, curious to know how he was taking all this. He stared back at her, wide-eyed and curious, but very much captivated by the story. ‘So what happened then?’ he asked.

‘I was summoned once again by the Jarl, and he thanked me for my assistance in dispatching the dragon. He then made me a Thane of Whiterun, of all things.’ She shrugged her shoulders and laughed drily. ‘I imagine he was trying to buy my loyalty and bind me to him. I think, in light of the coming uprising, he feels I may be of some use.’

‘I expect you're right,’ Farkas said thoughtfully.

‘He went on to say he had received word from the Greybeards, the monks who study the power of the Voice. They want the Dragonborn, or _Dovakiin_ as they called it, to visit them to complete some instruction at their temple at High Hrothgar, on top of the Throat of the World Mountain.’ 

She sighed heavily.

‘Are you going to go?’ he asked gently.

‘I am not sure yet. I … I don’t know if I am altogether happy that fate, or the Divine Nine, have decided a future for me. I like being in control of my own destiny.’ She looked at him. ‘I want to join the Companions,’ she said earnestly. ‘I want the life you lead. I want the Companions to become the family I have long searched for,’ she finished quietly.  She looked down at her hands then, not able to hold his gaze any longer. ‘I was a great disappointment to my own family, but I think I can make Kodlak proud.’

Farkas smiled at the wood elf and nodded. ‘I'm sure you will, shield-sister. I'm sure you will.’

She placed her hand on his forearm, and stopped her horse. ‘I would appreciate you not mentioning word of my situation amongst the Companions. I want my standing to be based on my ability as a warrior alone.’

‘Your secret is safe with me, sister,’ he answered sincerely. ‘Everyone is allowed a secret,’ he added with a smile and a conspiratorial wink.

Lyara noticed her loins tighten when he smiled at her. The smile was killer, part highly trained assassin and part nice guy. There was a slightly abashed quality to it, as if he understood its impact on people, and wanted to soften the blow. Her cheeks coloured slightly, and so to disguise her embarrassment, she quickly engaged him in conversation as they moved on, and asked him to tell her something about his life in the Companions.

He and Vilkas had spent the last couple of months collecting the various pieces of the legendary axe, Wuuthrad. Kodlak had been doing an immense amount of research, determined to find all the pieces and reform the great weapon of Ysgramor, the long-dead founder of the Companions.

‘How did you end up in the Companions?’ she asked.

Farkas explained that he and his brother were orphans and raised in an orphanage. They had joined the Companions when they were just 16. Skjor had been their trainer when they first arrived, and he taught them everything they knew.

‘Skjor says that I have the strength of Ysgramor, and my brother has his smarts,’ he joked.

*

They arrived at the outskirts of Whiterun, and left the horses at the stable. A stone-paved road wound up towards the large fortified gatehouse. The city of Whiterun, capital of Whiterun Hold, was perched high above them and was surrounded by steep cliff walls. The only way in was up the steep road, and over the drawbridge. The city was in a great position tactically, and Lyara believed it would be key to the impending civil war within Skyrim between the Imperials and the Stormcloaks.

Inside the walls, it was split into three distinct areas. The first was the Plain District, which is where the Bannered Mare Inn was located, and a food market. Next was the Wind District, within which most of the residents of Whiterun lived. The final area, the Cloud District, contained Dragonsreach, the Jarl’s Hall, and the seat of government for his hold. It was the highest point of Whiterun, and was rumoured to have once held a dragon prisoner in its dungeons.

As they walked through the town, Lyara was a little disappointed their journey together was over. She hoped there would be other opportunities to go on jobs with Farkas, as she felt their fighting styles complemented each other.

She followed Farkas into the Cloud District and up the steps to Jorrvaskr, the home and headquarters of the Companions. When she walked through the large oak doors, she was grateful for the warmth of the fires. The weather outside always seemed to be either raining or snowing. Lyara hated that it was always so damned cold in Skyrim.

The mead hall was warmed by a large fire pit in the centre that had benched seating around it. Aela the Huntress was sat talking with Skjor, and Farkas asked her where Kodlak was.

‘He's in his quarters,’ came her reply.

With a quick nod of farewell towards Lyara, Farkas walked off and descended the stairs at the end of the hall that led down to the living area on the level beneath. The wood elf watched him leave then turned back towards Aela, who beckoned her to a seat at the table and passed her a tankard of mead.

Aela smiled softly at her, her blue eyes sparkling. Her red hair hung to her shoulders, framing a pretty face. The war paint she was in the habit of wearing made her look wild and fierce, but Lyara knew her to be a kind and loyal friend. She was a formidable archer, and ferocious warrior, and she was highly respected among the Companions.

Lyara was quizzed about her adventure, and asked to tell of the fights in glorious detail. They saluted her successes, and Lyara smiled. She was very fond of her new friends, and amused at their blood-lust and fondness for revelling in the victories of battle. The life of a warrior was a hard one, and your shield-sibling’s survival to fight again another day was always something to celebrate.

  
Sometime later, their conversation was interrupted when Kodlak appeared, followed by Farkas and the surly Vilkas. ‘Aela, could you gather the rest of the Companions please?’ Kodlak asked. ‘Lyara, come follow me, child.’

The elder warrior gestured with a hand towards the back doors, to indicate she should go through. The two shield-maidens, Ria and Njada, were already outside stood around a brazier talking, but they stopped as soon as the group walked outside. Once through the door, Lyara stepped to one side, allowing Kodlak to lead. She followed him nervously, but Farkas appeared at her side and winked reassuringly.

Kodlak stopped in the centre of the training ground near the brazier, and turned towards the Companions that were gathered. The sky was fully dark now, and a breeze fluttered the flames as they cast deep shadows on the old man’s solemn features.

‘Lyara Tyranea. You have requested to join the Companions. You have successfully completed the challenges we have set for you. Do you still wish to join our family?’

‘Yes,’ responded the wood elf. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest, and she was feeling a little light headed from the strong mead she had shared with Aela earlier.

‘Who will speak for her?’ Kodlak asked loudly.

Farkas stepped forward and said clearly, ‘I stand witness to the courage of the soul who stands before us.’

‘Would you raise your shield in her defence?’

‘I would stand at her back, so the world may never overtake us.’ Farkas replied solemnly, but his eyes were full of pride as he turned and looked directly at her.

Kodlak nodded in approval. ‘And would you raise your sword in her honour?’

Farkas responded. ‘It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes.’

Lyara could feel a colour growing in her cheeks, but she was unable to hide the happiness she felt, or tear her gaze from Farkas.

Finally, Kodlak asked, ‘Would you raise a mug in her name?’

Farkas continued to look straight into her eyes. When he replied, his rich baritone voice was soft, and thick with emotion.

‘I would lead the song of triumph as our mead hall revelled in her stories.’

A cheer rose up then from around the group, and many of them made their way over to her to pat her on the back and offer their congratulations. Lyara happily returned the smiles of her shield-siblings, and thanked them for their kind words.

She then turned and found herself looking directly into the dark glare of Vilkas. His eyes, so like his brothers, looked at her with contempt.  Her smile faltered, and she watched the warrior turn and head back inside without a word. She glanced towards Farkas and saw from his awkward expression that he had seen his brother’s dismissal of her. He looked embarrassed at the behaviour, and wordlessly followed him inside with a scowl.

Torvar grabbed her arm. ‘Let's lift up our horns and drink deep into tomorrow ‘til the barrel runs dry.’

‘With the way you drink Torvar, the barrel won’t last until tomorrow,’ quipped Ria, and everyone laughed.

Lyara was still in her armour, so decided to go to the living quarters and change into some soft leather gear. When she was dressed, she went to visit Kodlak in his quarters.

‘Come in,’ came the deep voice from within in response to her quiet knock. The elder warrior was sat at a small table strewn with papers, a small goblet of wine in his hand. A candle sputtered in a holder, the flame darkening the deep lines in his weathered face. He smiled at her through his full beard, his blue-grey eyes gentle.

‘Ahh sister! How goes the hunt?’

Lyara smiled at his usual greeting. ‘Well, my brother. I wanted to thank you for your kindness, and wondered if I could trouble you further for some council.’

‘Sit. Sit,’ he commanded, and gestured towards a chair. ‘What is it that troubles you, child?’

Lyara quietly told him of her experience with the dragon at the Watch Tower, and what had immediately followed the creature’s death. She told him of the Jarl’s suggestion that she should visit the Greybeards but explained that she was unsure how her destiny as the _Dovakiin_ would impact on her duties and commitment to the Companions. 

Kodlak smiled at her in a fatherly way. ‘You have no need to fret, child. We are your family now, and no one of us rules the other. Your destiny is your own to make, and your family here will support you in whatever path you follow.’

He leaned forward, and kissed the top of her head gently. ‘Go. Go enjoy your party, and leave an old man to his bed.’

Lyara smiled. He was older than the other Companions certainly, but he was no old man. His beard may be grey, but his arm was still strong. She thanked him and headed back through the living area. As she past the door that led towards Farkas’s quarters, she heard his unmistakable deep voice as he spoke loudly to someone. When she heard the other voice, she recognised it as Vilkas and he sounded angry.

‘What is it about her that upsets you so, brother?’ she heard Farkas ask.

The elder twin growled in response. ‘I just don’t think she belongs here. There is something odd about her. She smells of … I am not sure, but my wolf can smell something in her blood.’

‘I think she smells like snowberries,’ she heard Farkas reply, and Lyara could almost picture him smiling. ‘You can trust her Vilkas. I would stake my life on it.’

‘You may just have to little brother.’

Lyara skipped away quickly and silently, not wanting to get caught eavesdropping. _Could Vilkas smell that she was Dragonborn? Or was it something else?_

*

Back in the hall, Torvar was amusing everyone with bawdy songs, having no doubt consumed his own considerable body weight in mead already. Lyara sat next to Aela. The Huntress smiled affectionately at Lyara. ‘How goes it sister? How do you feel now you are a fully-fledged Companion?’ she asked.

'Wonderful', Lyara grinned. 'I have never really had much of a family to speak of, so it's all quite new to me.'  

'The Companions are your family now. I would gladly lay down my life for any of them,' replied Aela.

‘Even Vilkas?’ Lyara asked sarcastically.

Aela laughed. ‘Yes, even Vilkas. Look, don’t take his gruff demeanour personally. He is tough, but fair and will come around eventually.’

‘I'm not so sure, but I will endeavour to make him proud.’

‘Now, his brother Farkas is a much friendlier soul,' Aela said with a gentle smile. 'He too can appear all dark and brooding sometimes, which always gets the ladies attention at the tavern, but deep down you could not ask for a truer friend or shield-brother.’

There was genuine fondness in Aela’s voice, and something in her smile that made Lyara wonder just how fond the Nord woman was of the gentle giant. ‘Are you and Farkas… intimate?’

Aela laughed loudly. ‘Divines, no! They are like my kin. My blood. Do not fear Lyara, you have no reason to concern yourself about me in that regard.’

She looked at the elf knowingly over her tankard, a wry smile on her face. Lyara blushed. Aela had obviously noticed the way she looked at Farkas. She was going to have to be a bit more circumspect in future.  Fortunately for her, chance of any further awkward conversation with Aela was lost when they were interrupted by Skjor.

‘I have a proposal for you, sister,’ he said quietly to Lyara. ‘Meet me and Aela later tonight at the Underforge.’

‘The Underforge?’ she asked, as this location was unfamiliar to her.

‘It is under the Skyforge. Look and you will find it. We have a proposal for you.’ With a curt nod towards Aela, he then left.

The Skyforge was a forge behind Jorrvaskr, ran by Eorlund Gray-mane. Lyara was curious about his cryptic request. ‘What was that all about?’ Lyara asked Aela.

‘All in good time, sister.’ The huntress said in such a way that Lyara was left with no doubt that the matter was closed.

Lyara was saddened that Farkas didn’t stay long at the party. Shortly after Lyara had arrived back from visiting with Kodlak, Farkas had appeared from the living area without his brother. He wore a gloomy expression, so she surmised the brothers had exchanged more words, and this obviously bothered him.

He came over to toast her, and she smiled in gratitude, even though she felt in some way responsible for his current mood. Distracted, he sat nearby, but did not join in the conversation, instead just stared into his mug. After a short while, he claimed exhaustion, and made his way back down to the living area.

At the appointed hour, Lyara broke off her dance with the drunken Torvar, and headed outside the back of Jorrvaskr. Her sharp eyes saw Aela slip through a concealed doorway just before the stairs that led up to the Skyforge. Lyara waited outside for a few minutes, not sure whether to just walk in or wait, but then Skjor arrived.

‘Is this another test?’ Lyara asked.

‘This is no test, new blood. This is a gift,’ was his enigmatic response.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyara receives her initiation into the Circle, and revels in her new powers. She returns from a mission for Aela to discover a tragedy

Skjor opened the door for her and they moved into a dark underground tunnel that opened out into a larger cavern. The cavern was dimly lit, and in its centre was a stone well. Stood next to the well was a werewolf. Lyara should have been alarmed, but there was something familiar about the beast’s eyes.

‘I hope you recognise Aela, even in this form,’ Skjor said. ‘She has agreed to be your forebear.’

‘Why the secrecy?’ Lyara asked.

‘We do this in secret because Kodlak is busy trying to throw away this great gift. How can something that gives this kind of power be a curse?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘Are you prepared to join your spirit with the beast world?’ he asked.

Lyara considered for a moment. In her homeland, the wolf had been her tribe's totem, and her name meant ‘wolf-woman’ in her native tongue. She had always admired the qualities of the wolf; fierce, loyal, and strong. Joining herself to a wolf spirit seemed the natural thing to do. ‘Yes,’ came her confident reply.

‘Very well,’ Skjor said. He brought out his sharp dagger and grasped one of Aela’s massive fur-covered forearms. Holding it over the shallow stone font, he cut into her arm. Her dark blood rushed to fill the font, and Skjor indicated that Lyara was to drink from it.

Lyara cupped a small amount of the warm liquid in her hands and swallowed. At first she felt nothing, then a black mist descended over her eyes and her vision blurred. Her head felt hot, and she was aware of suddenly becoming taller. An almost unbearable heat burned through her muscles as they stretched and grew in size and strength. Instinctively, she ran for the door, feeling an unstoppable urge to run from the confines of this cave and head out into the night to bathe in the moon’s light.

The moon hung in the sky larger than she had previously seen it. She found she could see in its soft light as well as she could see in her human form during daylight. Odours she was previously unaware of filled her nostrils, the scent of metal, sweat, and blood.

Her tongue felt thick, and she knew instinctively she couldn’t talk. With a speed never before known, she ran past the dark quiet houses where the citizens of Whiterun slept soundly, and leapt over a wall avoiding detection from the city guards. Onwards she ran, faster and faster. The strength in these muscles seemed limitless, and she agreed with Skjor that this was indeed a gift.

After several minutes, the black mist settled in her eyes again, and she slowed. Panting, she dropped to all fours, and she felt her arms contract and shrink to normal size, before passing out.

*

When she woke, she noticed two things. One, she was cold and naked, and two, she wasn’t alone.

‘I was starting to think you would never come back,’ said Aela, who was approaching her.  ‘Yours was not an easy transformation, but you are still alive. We even have a celebration planned for you.’

She threw a backpack at Lyara that contained her armour and some underclothes. While she dressed, Aela explained there was a pack of werewolf hunters nearby, more Silver Hand, at Gallows Rock. Skjor had apparently already gone on ahead and they were to meet him there.

Once Lyara was dressed, the two women headed towards the camp and slipped quietly inside the building. They met with a few pockets of resisting Silver Hand, but it proved no difficulty for the two competent warriors.

Having successfully broken into the Silver Hand’s lair, they silently crept further and further into its core. Lyara grimaced as they passed several corpses of werewolves that had obviously been part of the Silver Hand’s experiments. She found the whole thing sickening, and it fortified her decision that wiping this group from the face of Skyrim was a good idea.

Eventually, they entered a larger room where there were several Silver Hand gathered. The two women watched from cover for a moment, assessing the situation. At a nod from Aela, Lyara picked off several bandits with her bow before they even knew what was happening. Once their arrival was discovered, a cry rang out amongst the remaining bandits and they charged towards the two Companions.  Aela yelled instructions to Lyara above the clash of her sword to kill the group’s leader, Krev. At the sound of the name, one of the bandits, a woman, laughed at them heartily saying that they were both going to die.

Lyara figured this was Krev, and so with a speed unlike anything the bandit had witnessed before, fired two arrows in quick succession straight into her heart. The woman flew back with a grunt, then lay still and silent. Lyara had no time to enjoy her victory as she was then attacked by two bandits at once. They were too close to fire an arrow, so she released her axe. With a yell of defiance, she swept the keen edge across the stomach of one attacker, who dropped his weapon, clutching hopelessly at spilling entrails as his life leaked onto the floor. Undeterred, the final attacker swung his sword high, meaning to cleave her in half, but she blasted him with flames from her left hand.  

Panting from the adrenalin coursing through her veins, Lyara turned when she heard an anguished cry from her companion. Aela was kneeling over a body, and it wasn’t until Lyara got closer that she saw it was Skjor. 

'I am sorry, Aela,' Lyara said quietly.  
  
'You need to avenge our brother, Alea instructed through gritted teeth. 'I will take his body back to Jorrvaskr. You need to kill the Silver Hand leader in Lost Knife cave.'

Lyara felt deeply saddened at the death of the Companion, but she could see that her shield-sister was truly devastated. She briefly placed a consoling hand on her friend’s shoulder and quietly agreed, saying that she would leave immediately.

*

The other cave was about an hour’s run away, but she was in an environment she was comfortable with, and moved quickly through the forest. On her own, Lyara was able to sneak silently around the cave, and using her natural stealth, she quickly dispatched the few Silver Hand she came upon before they even knew she was there.

The final fight against the leader was a tough one, as his close proximity forced her to fight him with steel and fire instead of her bow. He was stronger than her and his attacks, despite being blocked, were gradually wearing her down. She started to regret her decision to try this on her own, wishing she had Aela’s arrows or Farkas’s sword to support her.

Her opponent may have been stronger, but she was quicker. Ducking under a blow, she was able to step in under his guard, and stabbed him through the ribs and upwards towards the heart. She stood over the corpse, her lungs hurting from the deep breaths she took. As she turned to leave, she noticed pain in her thigh caused by a deep wound she had not even noticed receiving.

She tried to heal the cut, and although she made it better, it did not fully heal. She always found her magic was weaker when she was exhausted, and so resolved to try again later. She was too tired to worry about it now, so she made the journey back to Whiterun on foot.

By the time she reached the city, the sun was up, but the morning air was still cool. Despite the chill in the air, Lyara was sweating and feverish. By now, she had lost a lot of blood from her leg, and was barely inside the main gates when she collapsed, darkness claiming her.

*

Lyara woke sometime later, feeling disoriented and incredibly thirsty. She still felt hot and weak, but managed to gather enough strength in her arms to sit up.

‘Ahh you are awake. Good. Good.’

Lyara turned towards the voice, and spotted Timla, the caretaker of Jorrvaskr, sat in a dark corner of the small room she was in. It was all coming back to her, the fight in Lost Knife Cave, the cut on her leg. The old woman came forward, and handed her a cup of wine.

‘Drink this,’ she said. ‘I will go and fetch Aela.’ The woman disappeared, leaving Lyara alone. _How long have I been asleep?_ she wondered. She could tell she was naked as soon as she sat up as the cool air in the room felt wonderful against her feverish skin. She pushed down the blanket covering her to past her knees so she could examine her leg wound. A bandage was wrapped around her thigh which she carefully lifted to peak under. There appeared to be some kind of strong smelling poultice on there, the acrid odour bringing tears to her eyes.

*

The door flew open and Farkas skidded into the small room, taking her by surprise.

‘Are you okay?’ he blurted out, then instantly blushed when he saw that she was sat naked, and uncovered. Farkas coughed and turned his head a little. The brief glimpse he had caught of Lyara showed him smooth pale flesh, a toned stomach, and soft full breasts tipped with dark nipples. He struggled internally, trying to prevent his head from turning back to get another look. Thankfully, Lyara sensed his embarrassment and pulled the cover back over herself. He immediately felt more relaxed, and turned asking again after her well being.

‘I’m fine, Farkas. It’s sweet of you to ask.’

He thought her voice sounded softer and quieter than usual. She was obviously still a little weak, but at least she had colour in her cheeks now. ‘Did you want something?’ she asked.

He wanted to tell her that he had been out of his mind with worry; that it wasn’t until he had seen her unconscious and deathly-pale body carried in to Jorrvaskr by two Whiterun guards that he realised how much he cared about her.

But he didn’t.

Being a Companion, it was not uncommon to lose people you cared about. The life was tough and hard, and not everyone survived it. All of the Companions were his family, and this woman was now his shield-sister, nothing more. He should treat her exactly the same as everyone else. As one of the leaders, it was his job to send out recruits into dangerous situations. He couldn’t afford to play favourites, or be over protective.

‘Oh, you know. I was just checking on our newest recruit, nothing special. I would have done it for anyone,’ he blurted, trying to appear nonchalant.

‘I'm sure you would,’ Lyara answered softly with a slight smile.

Aela appeared then. ‘Get out of here you big oaf,’ she cried harshly when she spotted Farkas. ‘Leave the poor girl alone to get better before you start issuing more orders. Go! Shoo!’

When he tried to protest, Aela pulled his arm and kicked his behind, launching him from the room, then slammed the door after him. With the slam of the door still ringing in his ears, he smiled to himself. Aela had been almost as worried about the wood elf as he was. It seemed Lyara had a way of getting under one’s skin. He went to tell Kodlak the good news.

*

Aela looked at her fondly as she sat next to Lyara on the bed. ‘How are you, sister?’ she asked gently. ‘You have no idea how relieved I am to see you well again.’

‘I still feel a little weak, and surprisingly tired, but other than that I feel fine. What happened?’

‘The guards brought you to us. You made it as far as the city gates before collapsing from the poison,' her shield-sister explained.

‘Poison?’ Lyara cried in alarm.

‘Yes, the Silver Hand have been experimenting with different poisons to affect those of us with the blood. Delivered with a silver blade, it makes it impossible for our usually high regeneration abilities to work, as well as affecting your own natural resistance to poison.’

‘My magic wouldn’t work. I couldn’t heal myself,’ Lyara added, touching the wound gingerly with her fingers.

‘You must have done some good. Without your healing ability you would have probably succumbed to the poison much sooner, and most likely have died. As it is, you were unconscious for three days.’

Lyara gasped in surprise.

‘I am very grateful for what you did for me, and for Skjor,’ Aela added in a quieter tone, a shadow of grief darkening her eyes. ‘In future, you will need to be more careful around silvered blades, sister,’ the Huntress continued. ‘But for now, another day’s rest should see you back on your feet. I will arrange for some food to be sent down.’

Just as the Nord was about to leave the room, she turned to Lyara. ‘You might like to know that he was very worried about you,’ she said indicating towards Farkas's room across the hall. ‘He wanted to sit by your bedside, but I wouldn’t let him as the big oaf fills half this tiny room. I told him to make himself busy, so he took your old battered armour to Eorlund at the Skyforge, and got some new armour made to the same size. It’s in that chest. I hope you like it.’ With that, she quietly closed the door. 

Lyara carefully stood and staggered to the chest at the end of her bed. When she opened it, she couldn’t help but smile in delight. Inside was a light fine-meshed mail, and with that was armour made of a kind of dark-grey scale that she didn’t recognise, securely bound together by leather strips. It looked and felt incredibly strong, yet there was barely any weight to it. There were boots and gloves, and a helm to match. She would look pretty fearsome in this she thought. A truly wonderful gift.

*

The next day, she went to visit Kodlak as he had asked to see her as soon as she was well enough. He spoke to her sternly, but not harshly. He had been made aware of the jobs she had done recently with Aela. When he saw her crestfallen expression, he spoke a little softer

‘I understood that Aela is taken over by grief. I too keenly feel the loss of a good man like Skjor, but the revenge was unnecessary. We have killed enough Silver Hand previously that these deaths were not honourable.’

Lyara was saddened that she has disappointed Kodlak. She had begun to think of him as a father figure in her life, and his disapproval cut deeper than any silvered blade. ‘Is there any way I can compensate for my transgressions, brother?’ she asked, her eyes pleading.

He thought for a while before answering. ‘No, child. What is done, is done. Let the consequences fall where they may. I do have a task for you though, should you wish it.’

‘Yes,’ she cried. ‘Anything.’

‘I have been studying for years to discover a cure for our… curse. I know that some do not consider it so, but for me it means that when I pass into the spirit realm I will be trapped in the eternal Hunting Grounds of Hircine, and be denied entry in to Sovngarde.’

Lyara did not believe her spirit went to Sovngarde when she passed, so this possible future did not concern her. She could see however, that it distressed Kodlak greatly.

Kodlak laid his hands on a pile of papers. 'I have discovered some ancient texts pertaining to the source of the werewolf curse. The power of the Glenmoril Witches was used to set the curse, and so it is their power that would help remove it. I need you to bring one of their heads. It’s a grisly task, but will you do it?’

‘Of course, brother,' Lyara agreed.

She sought out Farkas, with the excuse of showing him and thanking him for her new armour. She was also going to ask him if he would like to come with her, but she couldn’t find him anywhere in Jorrvaskr, so she went alone.

*

It was a fairly simple task. The witches were almost blind, and so sneaking up on one with her bow would have been easy. However, she wanted to experience her new beast form again. On arrival at the cave, after stepping carefully from her clothes, she willed herself to transform once more.

The power she felt was addictive and the small part of her that was not beast warned her to not do this too often less she forget she is elfin, but the beast ignored her. She loped into the cave, sniffing for a scent of the witches. There was one close by. She ran around the corner and with a roar charged straight at the crone.

The witch turned towards the noise, and blasted lighting from her crooked fingertips. This stunned Lyara for a second, but it only served to increase her bestial rage. With one powerful leap she was in front of the harridan. Lyara's strong right arm smashed into the side of the witch, and took her head clean off with one swipe.

Even in her bestial state, she watched with disgust as the head bounced along the floor of the cave, and finally rolled to a stop with the opaque sightless-eyes staring straight at her, a thick pool of blood gathering at the base.

Lyara stood and panted, her heart rate slowing down. As she calmed, she could feel the beast’s hold relinquish and shortly after, her form returned to normal. Grabbing a handful of the crone’s white hair, she ran out of the cave and quickly dressed. 

Her horse was a little skittish as she mounted it, and she was unsure if that was because of the head she was carrying, or if the animal could smell the scent of her wolf. She eventually got it under control and quickly headed back to Whiterun.

*

It was dusk by the time she arrived back in the city. She jogged through the market square and headed to Jorrvaskr, where she was shocked to see Torvar and Aela surrounded by dead Silver Hand on the steps leading to the large doors.

‘What happened?’ Lyara exclaimed.

‘The Silver Hand attacked us,’ said Torvar. His face was dark, and Lyara noticed that Aela once again looked grief-stricken. Lyara’s blood suddenly ran cold, and before either could say anymore, she ran up the stairs hoping to the Divines that Farkas was still alive.

When she got through the doors, she saw in horror that Kodlak was laid out next to the central fireplace. A dark circle of blood pooled around his midriff from a fatal wound. Njada and Farkas were knelt either side of his body, the shield maiden was sobbing, while Farkas's face was frozen in anguish. As Lyara stared, she heard Vilkas growl her name as he marched forcefully towards her.

‘Where have you been?’ he said in a voice thick with grief, and he finished with an accusatory sneer.

‘I … I was doing Kodlak’s bidding,’ and she lifted the head of the Glenmoril witch as proof.

‘Well, I hope it was important, as it means you weren’t here to defend him.’ His demeanour softened then, as if realising none of this was her fault, but he was still shaking with grief and anger. ‘The Silver Hand finally found enough courage to attack. Now… the old man... Kodlak is dead.’

‘Was anyone else hurt?’ she asked, looking over his shoulder at Farkas knelt by the corpse.

‘No,’ said Vilkas. ‘But they took all the pieces of Wuuthrad we had collected.’

He walked closer to her, his pain and grief raw and written all over his face, as he snarled at her. ‘You and I are going to reclaim them. We will bring the battle to their chief, and we will avenge Kodlak.’

With a final glance over her shoulder at Farkas, who hadn’t even acknowledged her arrival, she followed Vilkas back out into the night and headed towards a Fort known only as Driftshade.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyara seeks revenge for Kodlak's death before meeting his shade and giving him his dearest wish. He bestows upon her a great responsibility. She decides to put her new responsibility on hold to seek out information regarding her new abilities

In the coming fight, Lyara could not help but be impressed with the skill Vilkas displayed. He handled his sword like it was an extension of his arm. Between them, they killed the Silver Hand distributed about the base. Lyara led the way, and Vilkas was comfortable allowing her to do so once he saw her skill with the bow. Having half the people in the room dead even before he entered made his life a lot simpler.

During their journey back, with the Wuuthrad pieces safely stashed in Vilkas’ pack, he still didn’t speak to her but she felt that his demeanour towards her had softened slightly. At least he didn’t look at her like there was something rotten in the room.

When they returned to Whiterun, Vilkas led her to Skyforge where the other Companions had the funeral preparations underway. Once there, she saw a pyre had been built next to the forge, and Kodlak’s body, wrapped in linen, was laid out on top. All of the Companions were there, their faces full of heartache and anguish.

Lyara watched the bright flames consume his body. It was said that the fire facilitates the voyage to the realm of the dead, to Sovengarde. Despite only knowing him for a few short months, Lyara was devastated by Kodlak’s death as she felt that she owed him so much. He had given her the opportunity to join the Companions, and be a part of this family. He would be greatly missed.

After the ceremony, Lyara approached Farkas and gently laid her hand on his arm. She was about to offer her condolences when he growled, ‘Not now’. He pulled his arm away from her and walked quickly ahead. Lyara stopped in her tracks, her feelings hurt and her eyes welling with tears. She had not meant to intrude on his grief, but to offer solace.

She took the pieces of Wuuthrad Vilkas had given her, and gave them to the smith, Eorlund. 

'Kodlak kept the final piece in his private quarters,' said the ageing smith. 'Would you mind fetching it for me. Lyara nodded agreement.

Walking through a silent Jorrvaskr was an uncomfortable experience. The place was usually so full of life; people eating, drinking, brawling, and bragging. This place was the heart of the Companions, and Kodlak had been the soul. In his room, she was overcome with emotion, and allowed herself the luxury of a few moments reflection. She remembered his kind words to her, his soft grey eyes, and his good council and wisdom. But she was most sorry that she never got to lift the curse for him.

She returned to Eorlund at Skyforge and silently handed him the final piece. 'The others are waiting in the Underforge.'

When she arrived, Vilkas, Farkas, and Aela were discussing Kodlak’s curse. Vilkas explained that he felt they should try and honour the old man’s wishes, and to complete the ceremony he wanted at the tomb of Ysgramor. ‘Maybe this will give his spirit some comfort,’ he added.

Lyara listened as Aela, Farkas and Vilkas all agreed to go to Ysgramor’s tomb, and perform the ceremony. As she had possession of the witche's head, she was told she was going with them so they all went their separate ways to prepare for the journey.

Before they left, Eorlund told them that he had been able to reform Wuuthrad. To her great surprise, he handed the reformed axe to Lyara, saying they would need it to gain entry into the tomb. Wuuthrad was originally wielded by Ysgramor, founder of the Companions. The legendary Nord Ysgramor was said to have defeated the Snow Elves of Skyrim, during the latter half of the ancient Merethic Era, with no more than five hundred Companions. Looking at the razor sharp double blades, each featuring a haunting face inscribed on the side, Lyara could easily believe it.

With Aela’s help, she strapped it to her back and was ready to go. She deliberately avoided any contact with Farkas, giving him a wide berth should she upset him again. The whole group was in a sombre mood as they rode through the cold landscapes of northern Skyrim.

*

At the entrance to the tomb, a large statue of Ysgramor loomed over the Companions. The statues’ hands were outstretched, ready to accept an offering. The Companions parted to allow Lyara to step forward. She raised the huge axe and laid it reverentially onto the cold stone hands. From behind the statue they heard grating noises as ancient and massive stones moved to reveal the entrance to the tomb beneath.

As they headed toward the door, Vilkas stopped them saying that he would remain at the entrance. ‘I regret nothing of what we did at Driftshade, but I can’t go any further with my mind fogged and heart grieved.’

Lyara just shrugged, her mind too occupied to worry about his reasoning, and headed towards the door. ‘Be cautious,’ he shouted after her. ‘The finest warriors rest with Ysgramor. You will have to prove yourself to them.’

 _Great_ , she thought. _Now I have to worry about the dead as well as the living_. She was grateful to hear Aela and Farkas behind her as she made her way lower into the tomb.

The walls were moist and slick with slimy mould and funghi. Their breath started to plum in front of them as the air got colder the further they descended. Their footsteps echoed disconcertingly as they stepped around the tombs of past Harbingers, the true leaders of the Companions, and other fallen heroes.  The eerie silence was broken when Lyara heard sibilant voices whispering around the room. The trio froze as the whispering got louder. They were disoriented as it was impossible to pinpoint the source.

Lyara caught a hint of movement off to her right, but when she tried to focus on it, she couldn’t quite make out what it was.  It was vaguely human shaped, but almost transparent. As she stared, the misty form started to coalesce into a more recognisably human form.

‘Who daressss disssturb my ressssst?’

With that, the ghost moved towards her, preparing to attack with its ethereal sword. She fired quickly, the arrows barely slowing it down, so she quickly released her axe just as the spirit struck at her with surprising solidity. She parried one attack, and cut a couple of strokes herself until the spirit returned to its mist form and disappeared.

Lyara was a bit shaken, and looked at Aela and Farkas who both looked equally taken aback. They carried on deeper into the tomb, having to fight off several more of the restless spirits before they got to their destination.

When they arrived at the burial chamber, Lyara could not help her shocked exclamation. In the centre of the room was a large stone brazier that held the Flame of the Harbinger. Next to it stood a ghost with the likeness of Kodlak.

‘Kodlak? Is that you?’ she asked cautiously.

‘Of course. My fellow Harbingers and I have been warming ourselves here,’ came the spirit’s reply and he indicated the brazier. The voice was that of the Kodlak she knew and loved, but it had none of the familiar warmth and vitality. It sounded distant, and disembodied.

‘But there is nobody else here,’ Lyara asked, looking around the empty chamber.

‘You only see me because your heart only knows me. I’ll wager old Vignar could see half a dozen of my predecessors,’ Kodlak's shade said with an unearthly chuckle. ‘But they can all see you,’ he continued. ‘You have brought honour to the name of the Companions. We won’t soon forget it.’

Lyara was a little embarrassed at the high praise.  ‘Vilkas said you could still be cured.’

‘Do you still have the witch’s head?’ the shade asked. She nodded. ‘Then throw it into the fire, and it will release the magic.’

Lyara reached into her pack, and pulled out the grisly package. She threw it into the strange flickering blue flame, and waited. Kodlak’s spirit started to shake, and doubled over in apparent agony.  Lyara and the Companions watched as a second spirit, that of a wolf, pull itself free from Kodlak. It lifted its large ghostly head, and growled.

Farkas was instantly ready with his sword and engaged the beast. Lyara was shocked into action, and joined the fray. Aela kept back, and fired her arrows lightning fast. The ghost-wolf succumbed to the attack, and vanished into thin air just as the ghost-Companions had done.

The ghost of Kodlak remained however. Lyara spoke to him. ‘We have killed your beast spirit.’

‘I thank you for your gift,’ the spirit replied. ‘The other Harbingers remain trapped by Hircine, though. Perhaps from Sovngarde, the heroes of old can join me in their rescue. The Harrowing of the Hunting Grounds. It would be a battle of such triumph.’

His kindly face smiled at the two other Companions before looking directly at Lyara.

‘Perhaps someday you will join us in that battle. But for today, return to Jorrvaskr. Triumph in your victory, and lead the Companions to further glory.’

With those final words his spirit faded until he could be seen no more, only the echo of his voice remaining. Lyara smiled. Despite feeling like she had lost her friend all over again, she was happy that now he would spend his eternal rest in Sovngarde, as his heart desired.

When she turned to the other two, Aela was looking at her curiously. ‘Did I hear him right? Did he say you were to lead the Companions?’

‘He did,’ Farkas answered before Lyara could speak. His voice sounded thoughtful, but his feelings regarding this outcome were unreadable.

‘Does that upset you?’ Lyara asked them both.

Aela just shrugged. ‘You have earned the right. Your strength and honour are apparent to all.’ The Huntress stepped forward, and placed her hand on Lyara’s shoulder. ‘It’s my honour to be the first to address you as Harbinger.’ Lyara smiled in return, then Aela nodded her head towards the exit, and added, ‘Come on, let’s go tell the others.’

Farkas was strangely silent. Not exactly known for being talkative, but she would have expected some remark from him. At the entrance of the tomb, Vilkas was so relieved to hear that they had indeed cured Kodlak’s curse, that he actually took the news of her being Harbinger quite well.

‘I wouldn’t have expected someone like you to be Harbinger, but Kodlak trusted your judgement… and so will I.’ Lyara was stunned. Maybe Vilkas had actually listened to his brother for a change.

*  
  
When the party returned to Jorrvaskr, the news spread quickly about Kodlak’s cure, and of her instalment as Harbinger.

The Companions had a proper wake in honour of Kodlak. The mood was bitter sweet as they celebrated his cure, yet mourned his loss. Stories were told of his battles, and the enemies he had defeated. Lyara couldn’t help smiling at the fact that some of the stories were obviously embellished, but that was part of the Nord tradition she realised.

Aela leaned into her and spoke quietly. 'You should move into Kodlak’s old quarters, you know.'

'I'm not sure,' Lyara shrugged. 'I feel uncomfortable moving all his belongings out.'

'No one will think ill of you, Lyara.

After the party, Lyara went down to the living area and sat in Kodlak's room for a bit. She still felt as if she was being intrusive as she rummaged through his belongings. Tucked in one of the drawers of an end table, she found Kodlak’s journal. She started to read it, hoping that it may impart some advice. _I really need it, old man_ , she mentally sent him a message. _You have given me this responsibility; the least you could do is help me out here_.

She lay on the bed, and read. In it were his thoughts about the Companions, about the impending civil war, and a lot of notes about his search for a cure. Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep. It had been a long few days so soon after her illness, and it all suddenly caught up on her.

*

The next day, despite her concerns, no one seemed surprised when she emerged from Kodlak’s room. It was as if it had been expected. She dressed in a long cream woollen dress Timla had found her to wear the night before. She cinched it in at the waist with a dark brown soft leather bodice. She made her way upstairs to sit in the mead hall, and once again flipped through the pages of Kodlak’s journal as she picked at a breakfast that she hadn’t really wanted but Timla insisted she eat.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Farkas sat next to her. She was pleasantly surprised by the way he was dressed. It was the first time she had seen him wearing something other than armour. He was wearing some dark leather trousers, and a cotton vest. The seams at his shoulders were a little ragged where the sleeves had been torn off. The sleeves would have been too tight for his biceps, and she liked the way it highlighted his defined muscles. The small v-cut at the neck was just low enough for a little of his chest hair to be visible.

She forced herself to look into his pale blue eyes. They shone like diamonds from beneath the thick jet-black brows. They twinkled as he smiled at her, and she immediately started to feel a little warmth in the depths of her stomach.

*

Farkas had nearly walked past her as she had looked deep in thought and he didn’t want to disturb her. He then realised he hadn’t spoken to her much since Kodlak’s death, nor properly congratulated her on becoming Harbinger. He felt some remorse for snapping at her during the funeral.  He knew that he hadn't handled his grief well, and he hadn't considered how Kodlak's death had affected her until he saw her face when she met his shade.

‘Hey,’ he said cheerfully, as he plonked himself next to her on the bench.  ‘You look like you are thinking so hard, you could hurt yourself.’

She laughed softly, and he instantly felt his heart beat faster at the sound. 'I've been reading Kodlak's journal, hoping that it would help me be a better Harbinger.' She pushed the book towards him, and pointed at a particular paragraph.

_‘I have received few dreams over the course of my life, but when they come, I have learned to trust them. I have also learned to trust the instincts of my heart, which tells me that Lyara can carry the Companions legacy as truly as any residing in Jorrvaskr, especially with the loss of Skjor. Aela is too solitary, Vilkas too fiery, and Farkas too kind-hearted. Only Lyara stands as a true warrior who can keep a still mind amidst these burning hearts.’_

Farkas read the passage. He looked back at Lyara. ‘I think this tells you everything you need to know. Kodlak saw in you the potential to be our leader from the beginning. I trusted Kodlak more than anyone I have ever met before, so I am happy with his decision. I know that you will do the right thing.’

*

Lyara was moved at his faith in her, and she thanked him. She was grateful for the chance to talk openly and confide in someone. ‘I am still unsure how being Dragonborn will affect my duties as Harbinger. I feel a responsibility to go to Riften to follow up on some information I received about why the dragons have returned, and I also have to visit the Greybeards in High Hrothgar to receive instruction on the _Thu’um_.’ She looked down at the journal and fiddled absentmindedly with the corners.

‘So I guess you are going to be going on a trip then?’ Farkas asked.

‘Yes, I think I should go soon, today even; certainly before the weather gets too bad to travel. I need to get to the bottom of all this before I can fully commit to the position of Harbinger,’ she replied, her thoughts drifting off again.

‘I … I could come with you.’ He stammered a little nervously.

Lyara smiled at him. She was flattered that he had offered. 'I accept gladly.'

‘Great,’ he replied, looking genuinely pleased. ‘I'll go get a few things prepared for our trip and we can leave as soon as you are ready.’ She nodded her agreement.

‘We will travel to Ivarstead first,’ he suggested. ‘We can take the ‘7000 Steps’ from there up to High Hrothgar. Afterwards, we can go on to Riften to meet your contact there.’

She watched him walk away, and took the opportunity to admire his long muscular legs, and firm buttocks tightly encased in the soft leather. She suddenly regretted her decision to accept his offer. Spending time on the road with Farkas, just the two of them, was something she would have been overjoyed at a few days ago. Now, however, she was his Harbinger. As leader of the Companions, it was probably not appropriate to form any kind of relationship with one under her care.

She wasn’t sure yet what it meant to be Dragonborn, or what it would require her to do. She wasn’t sure if it would be fair to drag Farkas into all that.  It would be too easy to be distracted by his handsome face and gentle smile. She should be mindful to keep a professional distance. Lyara picked up the journal, and took it back to Kodlak’s room. She changed into her armour, and gathered her pack with a few essential provisions and some coin.

As she made her way back towards the mead hall, she decided to visit Vilkas in his quarters first, as she wanted to inform him that she would be away for several days. She knocked on his door, and she heard him say, ‘Enter.’

Lyara pushed the door open, and was a little surprised to see Ria in his room. She smiled in greeting at the pretty young Companion, who just flashed her large eyes at Vilkas, and with an embarrassed smile at Lyara, dashed out of his room. Vilkas turned to her, his face set in its usual scorn. ‘What do you want, Harbinger?’

Lyara chose to ignore the way he had sneered the title, but was disappointed that he had returned to his old ways with her. 'I shall be away for several days, and I trust you will watch over things while I am away.' She didn’t give him chance to reply or to argue, but said it with an air of authority before sweeping out of his room.

‘Oh! And I am taking Farkas with me,’ she shouted as she marched down the hall.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyara and Farkas set off to the Throat of The World, to meet with the Grey Beards and learn more about her role as Dovakiin. There journey is hampered by the harsh weather of Skyrim, leaving them in a compromising situation

When Lyara returned to the mead hall, Farkas was waiting for her. He had his armour on covered by a thick woollen cape, with a large pack over his shoulder which looked like it was as heavy as her, yet appeared to weigh nothing to him. He also had a sword at his hip, and a large two-handed axe strapped to his back. They made their way to the stables while Farkas detailed the route they should take.  She trusted his judgement as he was more familiar with Skyrim than she.

He appeared in high spirits, and she was glad to see it. He had been very distant towards her since Kodlak’s death, and she had greatly missed his companionship. As their horses rode side by side, she watched his face as he talked about a time he and Vilkas had headed to the area of the Rift Hold, where they were heading now. The two boys had been sent to oust some rebels, and it had proved to be a great fight.

She felt her heart swell when he laughed, and Lyara had to admit to herself, it was hopeless. There was no way she was able to quash the feelings she had for Farkas. His strength and quiet companionship had become a rock to her. His proximity seemed to offer her some shelter from the weight of her responsibilities, and brought clarity to her thoughts. Spending time with him as they journeyed on the long road, she even allowed herself fanciful moments to imagine a normal life, one outside the warrior’s life that involved a home and a family.

*

By the end of the first day, they made it over the border of Whiterun Hold and into the lands of The Rift. They had hoped to make it all the way to Ivarstead, but the progress was slow as there was thick snow on the ground around the foot of the Throat of the World Mountain. They made a small camp, and Farkas prepared them a meal. As they ate, they talked quietly between themselves, and he asked her about her childhood.

‘If that is not being too intrusive,’ he apologised. ‘I remember you saying to me that you felt you were a disappointment to your family.’

Lyara nodded, and it pleased her that he had remembered. ‘Yes, I was. I didn't grow up in a loving or supportive home.’

‘Neither did I,’ he interrupted with a snigger.

‘Nor did I have any siblings for company,’ she continued, but she smiled at him none the less. 'My mother's family was from Arenthia, in the northern part of Valenwood. She was a skilled leatherworker and apparently made the softest of leather for miles. Tradesman from Cyrodiil would regularly seek her out to trade. One such tradesmen that regularly visited was a Nord from Bruma. They became good friends, before falling in love.'

Farkas listened intently, and when she paused he urged her to go on.

'My mother, Firaro, asked her parents’ permission to marry the Nord, but they refused and forbade her to ever see him again. They relocated to Haven, in the south of Valenwood, hoping that my mother’s lover would never find her. Unfortunately, they didn’t intercede soon enough as she was already pregnant. Firaro died in childbirth, and so I was raised by my grandparents.'

She shook her sadly, clearly recalling some unpleasant memory. My grandparents seemed to blame me and my unknown father for Firaro’s death. They fed and clothed me, but never showed any affection, or encouragement. They never showed any interest in me at all. All my faults, my stubborn nature, my unusual height and appearance, my disregard for the Green Pact, were due to my Nord ancestry.'

When Farkas looked puzzled at the mention of the Green Pact. Lyara explained. 'The ancient Bosmer made a pact with their deity, Y’ffre, to protect the forest and not to eat any vegetarian products.  While I do favour a mostly carnivorous diet, I don't object to using plants occasionally.'

Lyara’s face was gloomy as she finished her story. 'I'm sorry to I asked, my intention was not to distress you,' Farkas apologised, placing a large hand on her shoulder. 'And I am honoured that you confided in me. I knew from the moment I met you that you were unlike any other Bosmer I've ever met, and now I know why. Your passion and aptitude in the ways of the warrior could only have come from your Nordic ancestry.'

Lyara blushed under his praise. The Bosmer were fierce warriors in their own right, but she didn't correct him as she didn't want to offend. 

Their meal finished, Farkas said he would keep first watch and allow Lyara to sleep. The area they were in was full of wolves and bears, so a watch would be advisable. She had a fitful rest, her mind plagued with strange dreams of her childhood in Valenwood.

When Farkas woke her to take over the watch, she noticed that he had let her sleep quite late. 'You should have woke me sooner,' she admonished him gently.

He brushed off her comments, 'I will have ample sleep do not fret.'

She understood something of what he meant, because he was snoring gently mere seconds after closing his eyes.  She let him sleep until the sun had risen and she had loaded their belongings back on the horses. She watched him surreptitiously as he stretched and yawned, his muscles rippling under the skin of his long limbs. He put his breast plate back on, and took the offered breakfast of some dried venison.

*

Their second day of travel was even slower. The weather was steadily getting worse and Farkas suspected that it would put an end to their plan of reaching Ivarstead by nightfall. By mid-afternoon, the snow-storm was so severe that their visibility was down to zero. Farkas was finding it difficult to keep the horses on the track, as the track was almost indiscernible from the forest. In the distance, he could just make out the vague silhouette of a ruined tower and thought this would provide shelter from the worst of the storm.

He leaned over to Lyara, and shouted over the wind. 'We can shelter in that tower over there.'

She lifted her head slightly, and nodded, and he was alarmed to see her lips had gone blue, her face was so pale it was almost translucent. He was annoyed at her for not alerting him to her condition sooner, but also annoyed at himself for not considering it. They made it inside the tower and found a room in a far corner that still had its roof intact and so was reasonably protected from the elements. The temperature was still cold, but at least it was dry.

He got to work straight away on a fire out of some dried leaves and crumbled timber beams. In a gruff no-nonsense voice, he instructed Lyara to start removing her armour. He had to get her warmed up as quickly as possible. As he nurtured the flames he watched with concern as with shaking fingers she fumbled with the fastenings of her armour. As soon as the flames took hold of the kindling, he went to her to assist.

Once the armour and mail was off, he could see her underclothes were soaked. ‘Your undergarments are going to have to come off too. They're wet through. I'll hang them over the fire while you climb into the bed roll. We will have to share I'm afraid, but our joint body heat will hopefully prevent you getting hypothermia.’

There was no ulterior motive to his words. It was plain practicality. He knew that if her core temperature wasn’t raised quickly she could get very sick. Very sick indeed.

*

Despite the removal of her armour and wet underclothes, goose bumps covered Lyara’s frozen flesh and her teeth chattered loudly. With a concerned face, Farkas nodded at the bed roll indicating she should get in first, as he took off his own undershirt.

It was the second time she had seen Farkas shirtless, the last time being after his werewolf transformation. This time, he still had his breechcloth on, so despite her chill, she couldn't miss this opportunity to satisfy her curiosity and have another look.

Once again she found herself entranced by the thick cover of hair that ran across the broad expanse of chest. Her eyes followed the line it formed as the hair came together down the centre of his muscular stomach, before ending in a thick patch at his groin. She was in awe at his form. He had to be the perfection of Nord men; tall, strong, ferociously loyal and incredibly brave.

He noticed she was still stood there and barked an order to get into the bedroll. Shocking her out of her reverie, she realised she had already stared longer than was appropriate, so she scurried in right up to the edge, and turned her back towards him.

She was not concerned by her own nudity. Being naked was just another state of dress as far as she was concerned, and normally she was unaffected by nudity in others. With Farkas, like a lot of things, it was different. She suddenly felt uncommonly self-conscious that her nipples had tightened to hard nubs at the site of the barbarian, and she hoped that he did not notice her arousal. If he had noticed, she prayed that he would attribute their state to the cold.

The snow-storm continued to rage outside their shelter. The flames on their small fire danced in the breeze, and did little more than illuminate the room, but it should give off enough heat to dry their underclothes that hung high above the flames on sticks.

Lyara heard a rustle as Farkas slipped out of his cotton breeches, and then she felt him slide into the bedroll behind her. He pressed his chest against her back as he reached behind him to pull and tighten the laces of the bedroll’s fastening. His manly smell assaulted her nostrils, but it was not unpleasant. His skin felt cool at first, but quickly warmed. The hairs on his chest gently tickled the skin between her shoulders and she sighed with pleasure.

*

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, misunderstanding the cause of her moan.

‘Yes, I'm fine,’ she responded, still shivering.

‘You should warm up soon. I'm already feeling warmer, but then I'm more used to the blizzards of Skyrim than you are.’

Farkas had to stop himself from inhaling sharply when his companion pressed her naked form closer to him, as she nestled into the bedroll. Her body had held an allure for him almost from the moment they met, so having it naked and pressed so close to him was testing his ability to remain courteous.

He was pleased when she finally stopped shivering. He'd been genuinely concerned for her welfare when he noticed her lips starting to turn blue. Their shared body heat should build up within the bedroll soon enough, and hopefully prevent any lasting effects from the cold.

It was a real risk for elves like Lyara that came from the lush tropical forests of Valenwood. The Nords had, over generations, become acclimatised to Skyrim’s harsh conditions. Farkas himself was known to go hunting in just a cotton vest and chest plate even on the coldest of days.

The woman that lay next to him, though a close companion, was still much of a mystery to him. She had been a stranger, then a _Dovakiin_ , then his shield-sister, and now his Harbinger. She had confided in him, and told him some of her background, but he still wondered what events had started her on the warrior’s path.

She had proven herself in battle many times working with the Companions. He'd noticed several scars on her body when he helped her numb fingers to peel off the snow-sodden undergarments moments ago. They were the sort of scars yuo only gain from years of combat. He didn't consider them ugly, as most would. Scars were badges of honour, the Nord felt. They showed that you had met your challenges and survived to vanquish your foes.

Strength, courage, and honour were qualities that Nords appreciated in others, and usually formed the basis of an attraction to a potential wife or husband long before a full bosom, or trim waist was considered. The fact that his Harbinger had these qualities in abundance, as well as a full bosom and trim waist was not lost on Farkas. His initial attraction to her had grown over the past few weeks into genuine affection, but he was at a loss on how to approach her on this matter. 

He had thought about asking his brother for advice, but Vilkas had never really liked Lyara; yet he seemed to have been less hostile since they came back from Ysgramor’s tomb. He was still unsure of his brother’s reaction should he speak to him about his attraction to the wood elf.

Vilkas was the one with the smart words, which is why growing up, he always seemed to do better than Farkas with women. He was never more envious of Vilkas’s smooth tongue than now. It wasn’t that Farkas didn’t get attention. Someone the size of Farkas doesn’t go unnoticed by tavern wenches. A wench however, was much easier to handle. You just grabbed a handful of their rump, pulled them onto your lap and pressed your tongue into their mouth.  He felt this kind of behaviour towards Lyara would result in an arrow to the knee.

Now, here he was in an impossible situation. One he had longed for perhaps, but yet under much different circumstances. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to blot out the memory of her naked form, even as he could feel the heat and tension already starting to build in his nethers. He prayed to the Nine that his body would not betray him further.

*

Lyara could feel her body start to warm up, and her cold muscles relax. The goose bumps had long faded, and her teeth no longer rattled in her head. Instead, she was presented with the exquisite agony of having the hard contours of Farkas’ muscled body pressed against her. The same man she had been unable to stop thinking about these past few weeks, and who had been the subject of her dreams. The object of her affections was now lying next to her, and yet still seemingly out of reach.

‘Are you comfortable?’ Farkas asked. His deep voice, usually strong and powerful, was now gentle and protective.

‘Maybe you could move a little closer, and put your arm around me? My legs are still quite cold,’ she replied without any hint of her true selfish need to feel him closer.

*

Farkas closed his eyes and cursed silently to himself. He had been deliberately holding his lower half away from her, so that she wouldn’t feel his semi-erection. With resignation, he draped an arm over his companion, and moved his hips forward slightly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyara and Farkas survive the night, but after the intimacy they experienced, their friendship suffers as neither are willing to admit their true feelings.

Lyara bit her lip to stop herself from moaning again. The feel of Farkas’ strong form now entirely against her was overwhelming. His warm skin exuded a heat that caused her to tingle at every spot it made contact with hers.

As she lay there, enjoying his closeness, she noticed what appeared to be a slight pressure into the back of her thighs, some kind of protrusion. Her eyes flew open in surprise. _Was he erect?_ The idea that he could be as aroused as her had not even occurred to her. Unsure if it was an erection or not, but determined to find out, Lyara pretended to nestle further down the bedroll. She drew her knees up as she moved; and then she felt it. The unmistakable sensation of a warm hard cock pressed against her opening.

*

Farkas didn’t make a sound; in fact he was holding his breath. She had just moved her rump further down the bedroll, and in doing so had pushed against his now fully hardened penis. The result being, it now rested in the cleft of her buttocks, its head at the entrance to her core.

He relaxed a little and started to breathe again when the expected alarmed cry or rebuke did not arrive. _Talos preserve me_ , he thought. Surely she must have noticed, as the crown was brushing against the outer lips of her pussy. He noticed her breathing had become a little faster, but could not concern himself with that, as he was concentrating on staying as still as possible. The pressure continued to grow, and he could feel his cock starting to ache. So close to its desire, the damn thing was starting to twitch involuntarily.

*

Lyara felt a slight tremble from the rock hard member pressed against her opening. This caused an increased tightening of her loins and a dampening between her legs.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for him to object to her proximity. Still he did not speak or move, so she too kept quiet. She lay as still as possible, although she could feel her pussy was starting to swell and grow with lust as it almost strained to envelop him.

*

Farkas may have had limited experience when it came to matters of the heart, but he was no stranger to a willing female. He had felt the flood of moisture against his crown, and it was taking every single ounce of his strength to not push his hips forward.

In the end, the decision was taken out of his hand, and to his great surprise and delight, Lyara pushed back.

*

All the reasons she had given herself over the past few days for ignoring her attraction were washed away by her desire. Unfamiliar with the mating customs of Nords, she was not sure if this was appropriate or not, but she slowly and determinedly pushed her hips back and impaled herself on his cock. She was so aroused, despite his girth, he slid in easily. She let out a small sigh of pleasure and her eyes fluttered shut.

*

Once Farkas had gotten over the shock, and the full realisation hit him that his cock head had entered her pussy, his restraint appeared to crumble. He tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer, and seeking a breast with his course fingers. He growled into her neck, as he pushed his hips forward so that his whole length sank into her warm depths.

*

Lyara’s eyes opened in surprise with a gasp. She had never felt so completely filled. She had had human partners before, but not many, and certainly not had a Nord. It seemed that it wasn’t just a Nord’s arms that were thicker than their elfin counterparts.

Small moans of pleasure escaped her lips, which seemed to spur her partner on, and to her delight he started to pump into her with long slow motions. Rough hands grazed her nipples causing delicious waves of pleasure to cascade over her body, as his hot breath blew against her neck. His thick shaft stretched the edges of her sweet hole, causing little sparks of glorious friction in her clit.

*

Farkas was lost. His only thought now was one of release. His hard flesh was enveloped in her tight walls, and he was only vaguely aware of her mewls of pleasure at each impact of his groin.

Feeling the pressure build in his balls, he grabbed her hip with one hand, and started ramming himself in harder, and faster. He had not meant to be this rough with her, but he was not receiving any complaints. In fact, it was quite the opposite, as she appeared to push back to meet each stroke.

All too soon, Farkas felt the familiar rush of his orgasm, and with a hearty grunt he gave a final thrust deep into his bedfellow’s wet pussy. As his seed filled her belly, waves of pleasure flowed out of him, and he could feel her tightening walls as her orgasm gripped his cock, draining him of all his fluids.

*

Her entire body had contracted during her orgasm, and Lyara felt her muscles slowly starting to relax as she melted against Farkas. She felt him make a move to withdraw, but with a slight noise of disappointment, and a small hand rested on his hip, he kept his position and they remained joined, his arms wrapped around her. Lyara was still in the bliss of her afterglow, and wanted to continue to languish in the fullness created by his flesh in hers.

She must have fallen asleep moments later, as the next thing she knew she was waking. Instinctively, she knew it was only just dawn, and her wolf blood told her that the moon had yet to set.

The storm had died, and it sounded much calmer outside their shelter. It was then she noticed the emptiness behind her. She turned with a start to see Farkas fully clothed and fastening the last few buckles of his armour.

*

He looked at her when he saw her stir. _What do I say now?_ he wondered. _Thank you?_ It didn't seem right, but he had to say something as he couldn't continue to just gawp at her.

‘Your clothes are dry,’ he said awkwardly. Immediately he regretted it, mentally kicking himself for sounding stupid, and in his embarrassment, he fled out of the room as quickly as he could muttering something about checking the horses.

*

Lyara was a little shocked and hurt. She sat in the cooling bedroll, wondering what she had done that upset him so. He had been in an awful hurry to get away from her. Granted, she had fallen asleep before they had had a chance to discuss what had just happened, but she had wrongly assumed they could do talk when they woke.

 _You stupid elf_ , she admonished herself. _He is quite obviously feeling regret about what happened last night. He is pretending it never happened_. She realised now that it had been ridiculous for her to think that a fine Nordic warrior would be interested in a half-blood elf. She should never have succumbed to her desires. She had been right all along.

From now on, she was going to stick to her original plan and keep an emotional distance between them. As his Harbinger, she should keep the relationship strictly professional.

She was angry then, at her own weakness more than at Farkas. She quickly dressed in her now dry garments, and then fitted on her armour. When she appeared outside, Farkas held out the reins of her horse, and with an awkward smile said the beasts looked no worse for wear.

She snatched the reins from him a little harsher than she had intended, and with a cool anger and an icy glare, she swung herself up on to the animal’s back. She turned her mount and was already heading back along the path before he had mounted.

The rest of the day was spent in relative silence. Each of them regretting their part in the previous night, and thinking that the other one hated them for it.

*

Farkas was confused. He had definitely enjoyed his experience last night, right up to the point where she blanked him this morning. Having her lie next to him all night, then wake up with her in his arms had been wonderful. When he woke, he had taken a lungful of her sweet scent which always reminded him of snowberries. Now, she was distant and cold towards him.

He had watched her closely since she came into his life, and it had always been obvious that she allowed her duties and responsibilities to weigh heavy on her. For a time, he thought that she saw him as someone she could confide in and share her burdens. He never forgot how she had told him first above all the other Companions about her being _Dovakiin_. It meant a lot that she had confided in him.

 _Why is she now keeping me at arm’s length? Does she no longer consider me worthy?_ _If that was the case, what was that last night?_ There had definitely been willingness on her part. In fact, she had taken the initiative; something he was fairly new to, but had to admit he liked.

This morning, instead of their friendship getting closer as he had hoped, she was acting as if nothing had happened. Had he been nothing more than a small distraction from her problems? Was he just a way to satisfy a need? It was the only explanation he could conclude.

He understood that people had needs and appetites, but his feelings were hurt. He had hoped that their joining would have meant more to her than it appeared to do. He wanted it to mean as much to her as it had to him.

His annoyance at her behaviour was only exceeded by the self-loathing and disgust he felt for himself. To have thought that a Harbinger, and a _Dovakiin_ would entertain some block-headed barbarian for more than a second, was laughable.

*

They arrived into the small town of Ivarstead by lunch time. Lyara paid for two rooms at the Vilmyr Inn. She mumbled that she was going to her room to take a hot bath and that she would see him back downstairs later for dinner.

Lyara let the hot water sooth her tired muscles. She got out of her pack a small bar of soap that she had made herself using some lye made from hardwood ash, and some oil extracted from snowberries. The oil had cost her a lot of gold and she had bought it in Bruma, a town in the northern part of the province of Cyrodiil. Bruma was largely populated by Nords due to its proximity to the border of Skyrim. She had worked for several years as a mercenary in Cyrodiil, but had gone to Bruma in the vain hope of finding information about her father.

As she lay back in the water, she tried to concentrate on what challenges she may face tomorrow with the Greybeards. However, as hard as she tried, thoughts of Farkas and his hooded glares haunted her, and for the first time in years, she allowed tears to run from her eyes. Their salty wetness lost in the waters of her bath.

*

Farkas was not faring any better. He had seen to the horses, and then taken his armour to the local smith to get a few repairs and get it oiled. After the rough weather, the last thing he needed was his armour to rust. He also paid the man to sharpen his blade, and arranged to collect everything the next day.  

Back at the inn, he sat on his own at a table. The huge Nord had such a fierce expression, the usually friendly patrons of the tavern stayed well clear of him. Each drink drove him further and further into the abyss of his own self-pity. Twice he almost stood up, resolved to go to her room. The first time his intention was to have it out with her, the second time to apologise and beg her forgiveness.

*

By the time Lyara joined him at his table, he was quite inebriated. She wondered if that was his second or third bottle of mead he had in front of him. Lyara asked the barkeep for two of whatever hot dish they had on that evening. They sat in silence as they waited for their meal. Lyara found it unbearable, so tried to start a conversation.

'Were you able to find a smith to sharpen your blade?'

He looked at her, rage seething behind his icy stare cold enough to chill her blood. ‘Of course I did. What use would I be as a shield-brother with a dull blade?’

Lyara was hurt by the insinuation that his only reason for being there was just as back up. She had allowed him to join her at his request, when she could have chosen from any of the Companions. It had been his friendship and companionship she had accepted, not his blade.

‘You are more to me than just a shield-brother,’ she replied quietly.

He leaned over the table towards her, and snarled, ‘Am I?’

*

When he leaned forward, he got a whiff of the familiar snowberries scent he often caught from her, which caused his loins to tighten. He had needs too. He would show her that he didn’t need some stupid wood elf to satisfy them either.

At that moment, two plates of venison stew were placed on the table by a tavern wench. She had small pert breasts that were squeezed into a tight bodice, pale skin, ruddy cheeks and tight ginger curls.  Farkas grabbed the lass, and pulled her onto his lap. She squealed in surprise, but then he offered her a sip of his mead. She giggled inanely, sipping from his cup as he held it. A few drops spilled and ran onto her cleavage, which Farkas licked off with a playful roar. The girl whooped in delighted surprise, and when he lifted his head she nibbled at his ear.

He caught Lyara staring at him in surprise. Guilt started to set when he saw her expression change to sadness, then disgust. He realised he had gone too far.

*

Lyara stood up dropped some coin into the waiting hand of the barkeep and said, ‘I’ll take a bottle of that Alto wine you have too.’ With that, she picked up her plate, and the bottle, and headed back up to her room.

At first light, they met up at the stables and headed west out of the town, towards the foot of the '7000 Steps' that led up to High Hrothgar, the mountain top monastery where the Greybeards resided.

They encountered several ice wolves on the way up, and even one large troll, but they instinctively put their personal differences aside and slipped into the perfect fighting team without a thought. At the summit, Lyara nervously pushed open the door.

She was met by a handful of silent monks, but one stepped forward and addressed her as Dragonborn. He introduced himself as Arngeir, the leader of the Greybeards.  He told her that before they could confirm that she was indeed Dragonborn, he wanted her to complete a series of trials to demonstrate her skill with Words of Power, or _Thu’um_. He led her to a courtyard area at the back of the temple.

*

Farkas watched from the side-lines feeling completely out of place. He fidgeted uncomfortably under the silent stares from the monks, and prayed to Talos that it would all be over soon.

He watched Lyara go through the trials set by the leader of the Greybeards with a certain amount of pride at her repeated successes. He wanted to tell her that he was proud, but when he caught her looking over at him, a grin on her face, he dropped his gaze and looked elsewhere, still ashamed at his behaviour the night before.

*

Lyara beat a particularly difficult challenge set by Arngeir. He taught her a new ‘shout’ that allowed her to sprint as fast as the wind. She had a split second to react to his cue, and get through some gates before they closed which she achieved on her first attempt.

Feeling quite pleased with herself, she looked over at Farkas hoping to share a smile with him, but he cast his eyes down. Once again, she keenly felt the loss of their previous camaraderie.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyara and Farkas leave the Greybeards nd make their way to Riften. An intervention from one of the Nine brings a resolution to their conflict

Before they left, Arngeir explained to her what it meant to be Dragonborn. She was a human born with a Dragon’s soul. The Words of Power were words in the Dragon tongue, and mortals could learn to use them with much practice, but for Dragonborn, or _Dovakiin_ , it was much easier. It was a lot for Lyara to take in, and once again she felt foreboding at the way the fates seemed to be manipulating her life.

Arngeir gave her a map that featured locations where Words of Power were inscribed in various ancient sites. He explained that she could learn new powers from these stone inscriptions. She thanked the brothers for their instruction, and led the way back down the mountain.

At the bottom, Lyara suggested they take rooms in the Vilmyr Inn once more as it was already starting to get dark, then head over to Riften at first light. Lyara had just about had enough of this unpleasantness, and decided to release Farkas from any unwanted commitment. Before they entered the inn, she placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

‘You know, I can continue to Riften alone tomorrow.’

*

Farkas could barely contain his anger. It seemed that she couldn’t wait to be rid of him. He had to admit, their awkward silences were uncomfortable, but he couldn’t leave her. He would never forgive himself should something happen to her.

‘I made a deal to be your shield-brother for the entire journey. We can part ways once I have escorted you safely back to Whiterun.’

He shrugged her hand off his arm and pushed his way into the inn. Lyara paid the barkeep for their rooms and asked for her meal to be delivered to her room. She decided she couldn’t face watching Farkas dangling any more wenches in front of her.

They set off early to Riften, and arrived there late morning. After leaving the horses at the stable, they headed to the Bee and Barb Inn. Once again, Lyara paid for two rooms. Farkas disappeared to his room almost immediately, so Lyara took a table in the inn. She ordered some wine and sat on her own feeling utterly miserable.

 _I have to sort this problem out with Farkas one way or another_ , she told herself. The tension between them could not continue. It was making the journey awkward, and she could not bear to think it may continue back at Whiterun.  It would make her tenure as Harbinger of the Companions unbearable.  More importantly, she didn't want to have to face another night lying awake trying not to think about what Farkas may be doing with one of the tavern wenches.

With a heavy heart and a heavier sigh she supped her wine.

‘You look troubled, lady.’

Lyara looked up to see who had spoken. A handsome Imperial man with a friendly face, dark hair and swarthy skin was stood next to her table. He smiled at her in an expectant fashion, awaiting an answer to his query.

‘Yes, I am,’ she replied. 

He sat down without waiting for an invitation. ‘What troubles you? Maybe I can help,’ he asked with a soft smile that didn’t match the sharpness that was in his eyes.

‘A man,’ she responded, followed by another heavy sigh. 

Her visitor leaned forward, and in a soft conspiratorial voice said, ‘My name is Marcurio, and for a modest fee I can deal with your problem. You will never hear from him again.’

Lyara was a little shocked when she realised he was offering to kill Farkas. He was obviously a mercenary. She should have spotted it earlier, having been one herself for many years. ‘It's not that kind of problem. It's a matter of the heart,’ she admitted.

‘Ahh,’ he said. ‘Then that is not a problem I can help with. You might consider talking to Maramal at the Temple of Mara. He is probably the best person to advise on … matters of the heart.’

With that, her visitor stood up. ‘I bid you good day,’ he said as he bowed his head slightly before disappearing to another table.

Lyara thought about Marcurio’s suggestion for a moment. She knew a little of Mara, the Mother-Goddess and the goddess of love. Maybe she could meditate on her problems there, and find a solution.

*

She left the inn, and made her way through the streets of Riften towards the temple. There were no other patrons in the wooden temple but one or two monks moved in silence about their business. There were several benches arranged to face the altar, but they were all empty. The large room had a warm glow from the candles, and the sweet smell of incense wafted in the air.

On the altar was a statue of Mara, her hands held out, and a plaintive expression on her beautiful face. Lyara walked to the front, and knelt in front of the goddess. She placed her hand on the statue, and mumbled a short prayer.

_Mara, Goddess of Love. Hear me and guide my heart. Show me the path to reconcile with my companion. He does not love me, but I love him and I fear I have hurt him gravely. I wish for us to be friends once more. Mother-Goddess, I beg for your guidance._

She felt a slight warmth under her fingers, but decided she had imagined it. The sensation become stronger, and the warm feeling travelled up her arms and into her body.  A woman’s faint voice could be heard in her head. It didn’t come from anywhere in the temple, but from inside her mind.

_Open your heart child, and your mind. Are you sure the one you love, loves you not?_

A vision then flashed in front of her eyes. It showed Farkas as he watched her being tested by Vilkas, and the pleasure and amusement on his face was clear to see. Another vision appeared of them fighting side by side against the Silver Hand, admiration of her abilities evident on his face. She was then shown a close look at the immense pride on his face as she was inducted into the Companions. Another image showed him while she was lying ill, close to death. The anguish on his face was raw and painful to look at. More visions came, flitting across her mind’s eye one after the other, each showing a different instance of how he looked at her when unobserved, his feelings towards her plain to see on his face.

When the visions ended, Lyara opened her eyes with a gasp.  She staggered to her feet, a little disoriented. _How have I not seen this?_

‘Blessings of Mara upon you, child. Are you unwell?’ Lyara turned her head slowly to see a kindly face in a cowl. He was obviously one of the monks of the temple.

‘No…  I am fine,’ she said weakly, as she continued to teeter. The Redguard monk grabbed her elbow, and helped guide her to a seat.

‘You don’t look well, if you don’t mind me saying,’ he smiled. Lyara looked once again at the statue, wondering if it had really been the goddess that had shown her those visions.  The monk seemed to guess that something had transpired between the elf and Mara.

‘Has Mara spoken to you?’ he asked. Lyara nodded. Her mouth so dry she was finding it difficult to speak.  The monk fetched a goblet of water, and handed it over. After a small sip, she looked at the monk and asked if he was Maramal.

The monk smiled, and nodded, ‘Yes, I am Maramal. There is usually only one kind of person that comes looking for me, and that is those who are interested in marriage. Are you interested in marriage?’

Lyara pictured Farkas in her mind, and nodded again. Her tongue was still dry, but she managed to quietly say that yes, she was interested.

‘Typically, love in Skyrim is as earnest as the people who live here. Life is hard and short, so there is little room for long courtships.’ He stood then, and walked to a locked drawer at the back of the altar. He unlocked it with a key from his belt, and lifted something out of the drawer before returning to Lyara.

‘A person who is looking for a spouse simply wears the Amulet of Mara about their neck, showing they are available for marriage.’  He held out the amulet to Lyara, with a friendly and knowing smile. ‘Come back and see me when you are ready to marry. I am here for the rest of the day.’

Lyara reached into her coin purse and paid him for the amulet. ‘Good luck, and Mara bless you,’ he said.

‘She already has,’ Lyara replied, and with a lighter heart, made her way back to the Inn.

When she walked back into the Bee and Barb, there was no sign of Farkas, but she figured it wouldn’t be long before his stomach brought him in search of food. She ordered a bath, and waited in her room. While she waited for the wenches to arrive with the hot water, she laid out on her bed the clothes she had purchased on her walk back from the temple from one of the market stalls in the centre of the town.

A fine red woollen dress so soft it was like silk and she hoped the colour would match her eyes. She also picked up a calf-leather bodice in black that was soft and supple.

She scrubbed herself all over with her snowberry soap. She smiled to herself as she remembered overhearing Farkas once say he liked that she smelled of snowberries, and she knew he had noticed the other day when she saw his nostrils flare. She was determined to do whatever it took to ensure he noticed her today.

She bound the top of her hair back in the Nord style she favoured, and put on her new dress. The wool was warm yet soft against her skin, and the colour was striking. The neckline was quite low, and when she fastened herself tightly into the black leather bodice over the top, it pushed her breasts up into a pleasing cleavage.

Lyara then picked up the amulet.  The large centrepiece was decorated with intricate knot work, and a turquoise stone. When she put it on, it nestled nicely between her breasts.

She headed back downstairs into the main room and saw Farkas in a corner alone, and as expected, he was eating. He had a large chunk of meat in his fist, and was staring into nothing as he absentmindedly chewed. She was thrilled to note his jaw dropped a little when he spotted her.

Keeping a straight face, she walked confidently over to his table and instead of sitting across from him, she sat on the bench next to him.

*

He put the meat down, and wiped the grease off his hands onto his trousers. When she had sat next to him, the familiar sweet scent of snowberries wafted up his nose. Her large almond shaped eyes were looking at him intently, and there was a slight curl of amusement on her lips.

He couldn’t help but stare at her soft breasts as they looked about to spill out of her bodice. The skin was pale and flawless, and his hands ached to stroke it. It was then that he noticed the amulet. _Was that…?_

‘Is that the Amulet of Mara?’ he asked, hesitantly.

‘Yes, it is,’ she replied.

‘So... you are looking for a spouse then?’

‘I am,’ came her reply. His heart sank. He was familiar with the Amulet’s significance. She was looking for a mate, and going by the way she was dressed, he could only assume she had found one.

But wait…

She was here alone. And she was sat next to him.

‘Why?’ she continued. ‘Are you interested in me?’ She folded her arms in a challenging gesture, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. He was oblivious to this though, as he was gaze was riveted by the way her folded arms had pushed her breasts together. The valley of her cleavage was looking more and more inviting by the second.

He forced himself to look back at her face. _By the Nine, Farkas. Don’t mess things up now,_ he told himself.

*

Lyara held her breath, waiting for the answer to her question. She had walked in here full of confidence following her visions. She knew deep down that Farkas truly loved her. She just had to get him to admit it. Now, there was a long pause.  _Why isn’t he answering?_ she wondered. Her confidence and smile started to wane.

‘I won't lie, I am.’ he replied eventually. Her relief was so immense she almost let out the breath she had been holding in a whoosh. There was more to be said, so she kept her face as straight as possible, and waited. When he had first spotted her entering the room, his face had registered shock and surprise at her appearance. He had then spotted the amulet and for a moment, his face had shown disappointment then confusion.

Finally, with a glint in his eye of the old Farkas, she saw a smile start to appear on his face, his full lips glistening with the meat juices from his dinner. ‘Are you interested in me?’ he finally asked.

She looked at him fondly then and her voice came out at barely above a whisper, but it was loud enough for him to hear. ‘Yes. Of course I am… you big oaf!’

With that, she leaned forward and licked the meat juice off his full bottom lip, before gently sucking it into her mouth. He responded by kissing her back, and before she knew it, he had pulled her close to him with a surprising ferocity. His kiss was warm and passionate, and his lips were soft and yielding. Their first kiss was everything Lyara had hoped it would be.

When he finally let her go, she felt a little self-conscious that they were kissing in public. He held her face in his hands, his eyes searching hers, and a huge grin on his face.

‘We better go and talk to a priest about getting married then,’ he said, before kissing her once more.

‘Already arranged,’ Lyara answered to his surprise. ‘I spoke to him this afternoon. He is waiting for us.’ She stood up, and held out her hand. With a slightly dazed smile, he took it and the two of them walked hand in hand up to the temple.

Just at the door, Farkas said with surprise still in his voice, ‘Who would have thought I would be getting married?’

Lyara’s brow furrowed in concern as she moved to stand in front of him. ‘You don’t have to do this if you've changed your mind. I… I will understand.’

‘No dear,’ he replied quickly, leaning down to kiss her cheek softly. ‘I just meant that I'm surprised someone, anyone, especially you, would be interested in marrying me.’

She smiled at him, relieved. He squeezed her hand gently, and said, ‘It’s you and me from now on.’

When they walked into the temple, one of the monks went to fetch Maramal, while another congratulated them on their wedding. Lyara blushed, thanking them for their kind wishes. As Maramal approached the altar, he cried ‘Ahh, here is the blushing bride now. Let’s begin the ceremony.’ He beckoned them closer, and then spoke to them in a clear voice.

‘It was Mara that gave birth to all of creation and pledged to watch over us as her children.  It is from her love of us, that we first learned to love one another. It is from this love that we have learned that a life lived alone is no life at all.’

Lyara looked from Maramal to Farkas. Her heart sang as she saw he was looking at her too, the love he felt for her clearly visible.

‘We gather here today under Mara’s loving gaze, to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship,’ the priest continued. ‘May they journey forth together in this life and the next, in prosperity and poverty, and in joy and hardship.’ 

The priest then turned to Farkas. ‘Do you agree to be bound together in love, now and forever?’

‘I do. Now and forever,’ he replied, his pale eyes blazing with emotion.

Maramal turned then to Lyara. ‘Do you agree to be bound together in love, now and forever?’

‘I do. Now and forever’

‘Under the authority of Mara, the Divine of Love, I declare this couple wed.’ Lyara turned to Farkas, who grasped her hands and pulled her into an embrace. His large strong hands moved to gently cup her face, before kissing her softly on the lips.

They walked back to the Inn with their fingers intertwined, with eyes for no one but each other. Lyara realised she still had the amulet on, and pulled it from around her neck and threw it to the ground. Maybe some poor soul would find it, and in wearing it, find a fraction of the happiness she was feeling right now.


	8. Chapter 8

Farkas smiled when she threw away the amulet. He didn’t relish having to fend off other admirers. She was his now, and he wanted to keep it that way. Part of him was still convinced this was all a misunderstanding and that Lyara would realise her mistake and flee. He knew it was just his own silly insecurities talking, as she had gone to some effort to plan this afternoon, with the new dress, and the amulet. He was confident that she knew what she wanted and he was eternally grateful to the Divines that it was him.

‘Where do you want to live?’ Farkas asked. ‘You could stay with me …,’ he finished with a shrug.

‘We will live at Jorrvaskr for the time being. I've been given leave to buy a house in Whiterun, but just not gotten around to it yet. I will do so when we get back.’

Satisfied with that answer, he put his arm around her shoulder, and pulled her closer to him with a slight growl.

‘I can’t wait that long. We need to get back to the Inn as soon as possible,’ he said with a wolfish grin, then nuzzled into her neck. Lyara agreed, and picked up the pace and he laughed softly, a deep rumbling sound. Once in the Inn they headed straight upstairs. There was a moment’s indecision, when they were not sure which of their rooms to enter, so Lyara pulled him towards hers and closed the door behind them.

With quick deft fingers, Lyara had the fastenings on her bodice undone, and was shucking out of the dress while Farkas watched in stunned silence. The last time he had seen her naked, it had been for health reasons, and he had helped her undress with a detachment that was long gone now. As she wiggled her bottom to push the dress over her hips, her naked breasts jiggled playfully, and instantly he felt himself harden. _By the Nine, she is gorgeous_ , he thought to himself.

Her stomach was flat and toned, and her arms showed some reasonable muscle definition. Her thighs were long and lithe leading to shapely calves. This was no lazy tavern wench. This was the body of a seasoned warrior, and it excited him more than he thought possible.  He stopped gawking, and hurried to catch up with undressing.

*

Lyara stood in front of him patiently, her eyes wide and dark. As he lifted the undershirt over his head, her eyes feasted on his flesh. Finally, she was able to touch what had been haunting her dreams for weeks.

Farkas removed his breechcloth, and stood before her. She was staring at his taut chest and, almost reverentially, held out a hand to slowly rake her fingers through his chest hair. She stepped a little closer, and now with both hands, firmly ran her fingers over his developed pectorals. She grazed his nipples as her small hands travelled down his hard flat stomach. She whimpered slightly. Lyara had never before seen anyone quite so beautiful or well made in her entire life. _Talos did a good job with this one._

She looked up into his eyes then, a look of wonderment on her face. Her breath caught in her throat, as the gentle caring expression she had seen from him only moments ago during their wedding ceremony, had been replaced by something feral, animalistic.

And hungry.

*

He pounced on her, crushing her to him, his lips grinding against hers. He parted his mouth slightly at the insistence of Lyara’s tongue, and sucked it into his mouth. She rose onto her tip toes, and wrapped her soft arms around his neck, knotting her fingers into his hair.

Farkas bent his knees slightly so he could put his large hands under her rump and lifted her easily. He took the few steps towards the bed and threw her on. He laid himself above her, supporting the majority of his weight on his elbows. Lyara looked like she would have swooned had she not already been laid down, 

He lowered his head, and sucked on her nipples hungrily causing her to shudder with delight. She ran her fingers through his thick hair as he licked and nibbled at the hardened buds until they were so tender, his very breath on them was enough to cause shivers of pleasure.

  
He relinquished her full breasts and continued to move south, laying a trail of soft kisses down her flat belly, until he reached her womanly slit. The mound was soft and hairless, and he wanted to taste her more than anything. His tongue probed gently, pushing into the delicate folds. He savoured her sweet nectar, and with each lap of his tongue, more and more was released. His hand gently caressed the soft skin of her hip and thigh as his tongue delved deeper.

He felt her move and squirm beneath him, and gentle moans of pleasure issued from her lips. He longed once again to taste her sweet mouth, and moved his body back up hers while moving his hand between her legs. He gently massaged the soft folds with his fingers while his thumb rubbed against her clit. Two of his fingers gently pushed inside of her, her hot walls clinging around them. He gently withdrew, only to repeat the action several more times.

He watched her face closely, enjoying the varying expressions as they danced across her face.  Her moans increased and he knew she was ready for him. He removed his hand, and knelt above her, watching. She opened her eyes to stare at him, his own lust mirrored in her eyes.   His eyes drifted down her body, to the point where they met.

He could feel his hardened tip as it pressed against her entrance, and he teased her for a moment until the agony of the wait became too much for him, and he sunk into her depths with a growl.

*

Lyara bucked her hips up to meet him, and her fingers clawed at his shoulders like a woman trying to prevent herself from drowning in pleasure. Feeling his weight atop her was blissful. There was a comfort to it she never would have expected.

Farkas’s breath and kisses were hot against her throat. She revelled in the feeling of his stubble as it grazed her chin, and his chest hair as it tickled her sensitive nipples. He grunted with each thrust as he repeatedly drove his manhood into her molten core. A fire burned deep in her loins that only his seed could quench. She wrapped her legs around him, and held him to her as she felt the wave of her climax about to hit. With a bestial roar, and a final hard thrust, he spurted and shuddered inside her. Lyara was pushed over the edge, and her pussy tightened around him with a vice-like grip.

The cries of their simultaneous climax echoed around the silence of the room. The only sound remaining was their heavy breathing as they both tried to get their breath back. Lyara looked at Farkas, and smiled as the tenderness had returned to his eyes. He stroked a few fingers down her cheek and kissed her tenderly until he was soft. Even when soft, he was still large enough to stay within her, but he pulled out gently.

‘Married!’ he chuckled, before rolling onto his back. ‘It doesn’t feel like I thought it would, but I'm happy.’

Lyara rolled onto her front to lie next to him and look at her husband. She draped one arm over his chest, and he grabbed her hand. After kissing the fingers, he gently laid her palm over his heart, and smiled contentedly.

‘No regrets?’ she asked.

He turned to look at her. ‘None.’

With a happy sigh, he closed his eyes. Lyara watched as the smile on his face disappeared, the muscles relaxing in his face. Within moments he was snoring gently, and Lyara was amused by how quickly he could fall asleep. She snuggled up closer to him and resting her head on his shoulder, fell asleep herself.

A few hours later, Lyara awoke feeling cold. It was still the middle of the night and the moon was bright, but not quite full, shining its light into the bedroom.  The fire in the room had almost died so she got up to add more wood to it. Climbing back onto the bed, she gently pulled the furs over them both, and then pressed her back into the warmth of her husband.

Her movement had disturbed Farkas, and he turned on his side and wrapped his arm around her. She let out a contented sigh, and he sleepily kissed the crook of her neck.  She turned her head so that she could steal a kiss from his lips.

She could see the moon, as she lay in the bed facing the window, and silently sent Mara thanks for giving her this night.

Farkas ran his hand slowly up and down the crest of her hip and thigh.

‘Hello love,’ he murmured sleepily in her ear.

She smiled to herself, and pushed herself back further to snuggle even closer to him. They lay in silence, enjoying the closeness of each other.

‘Can I ask you a question?’ he whispered.

‘Of course,’ she replied.

‘I just wondered… what changed your mind?’

Lyara was confused. ‘What do you mean?’ she said, turning her head so she could see him.

‘Well… after we… you know… shared that night during the storm, you’ve been distant, and… I thought that you regretted everything, and… wished it had never happened.’

Lyara turned towards him, a frown on her face. ‘That’s not what happened at all,’ she said, a steely edge to her voice. She sat up and looked at him. Lyara was a little annoyed that he was holding her to blame for the last few days.

‘I was very happy with what happened that night. It was you who seemed more interested in the horses the next morning. I figured it was you that regretted it, you seemed so angry at me.’

*

‘Wait? What?’ Farkas sat up too, looking confused. ‘Are you saying that all this bad feeling between us was because you thought I was annoyed at you?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘And quite frankly, I was at a loss to understand what I had done wrong.’

‘GAHHH!’ Farkas blurted. ‘I thought you were annoyed at me! Talos curse my stupidity!’ He grabbed her hands and pulled them to his mouth, to kiss her fingers. ‘I beg your forgiveness my love. I'm such a fool, and wish I could kick my own stupid arse. It was all my fault. Me and my stupid mouth and being unable to say what I feel.’

Lyara was still confused, and shook her head as she tried to make sense of what he was telling her. Farkas took a deep breath and looked into Lyara’s blood-red eyes. ‘I have loved you from the moment I met you. The other night was, until tonight, one of the most wonderful experiences of my life.’

Lyara tried to interject but he put a finger on her mouth. ‘Please. Let me finish.’ He took another deep breath before continuing. ‘When I woke the next day, I wanted to tell you that waking up with you in my arms was how I wanted to wake every morning, for the rest of my life, but… my stupid tongue gets in the way, I get nervous and end up saying something stupid like ‘the clothes are dry’.’

He stroked her cheek. ‘I was so embarrassed I couldn’t get out of there quick enough. In hindsight, I see now how you could have taken this as a rejection. Your hostility was perfectly understandable. I realise too that my behaviour was... was…’

‘Deplorable?’ Lyara suggested.

‘Yes, deplorable. I even see now that you tried to reconcile things, and all I did was push you further away.’

Lyara sat in silence for a few minutes, mulling over what he said. ‘Don’t you see Lyara? I thought you had rejected me. I was hurt, and in my stupidity… I tried to hurt you back. I couldn’t see far enough through my own self-pity that you were already hurting.’

*

He looked so forlorn and genuinely apologetic, that despite wanting to be angry at him she found it difficult. Mostly, she was just relieved that he had never hated her.

‘Let us not speak of the animosity between us again. It is all in the past now, my love. I know that you are dear to my heart, and I to yours. That is all that shall remain between us.’

He pulled her to him, embracing her so fiercely that she squeaked. ‘I promise that from now on, I will always be honest and tell you what is in my heart,’ he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

He loosened his grip on her, and lay back down. She followed him down, her head laying back on his chest. The furs had been pushed off them again, but the fire had caught on the logs she had put on earlier so the room had warmed up. She looked down, intending to grab for the furs to cover them again, when she noticed his penis was only inches away from her, and so she took a moment to admire it.

Even flaccid it was thick as it lay along his thigh. The purple crown protruded slightly from the foreskin, and it shone sleekly in the moonlight. Unable to resist, Lyara placed her hands around its base, and gently stroked her hand up to the tip. She heard her lover draw in his breath sharply, but knew it was in pleasure.

Keeping a firm grip around its girth she stroked back down, gently pulling the foreskin back to reveal the crown in all its glory. Unable to resist any longer, she moved her head closer and ran her tongue all around the rim, and up along the slit to poke her tongue gently into the hole.

Farkas was moaning now, and his fingers tangled into her hair. Lyara was amazed as his shaft grew in length and thickness in her hand. She continued to pump her hand up and down the length while teasing the end with the tip of her tongue. It felt so smooth and tasted a little salty. A drop of pre-cum appeared like a pearl at the tip, and so she engulfed her prize in her mouth, lowering her lips further and further down.

*

Farkas was having great difficulty stopping his hips from pushing his cock further into her mouth. The sensation he experienced as her lips enveloped the head and gently sucked it into her mouth was unbelievable. It could not compare to having the whole of your cock buried to the hilt in a warm tight pussy, but it was the very next best thing.  

As she sucked the end, swirling her tongue around the sensitive glans, she continued to pump with her hand. He could feel her getting faster and knew that he would lose himself shortly.

*

Lyara was getting carried away, enjoying the sensations and feel of her new toy. She was not paying any attention to the moans and whimpers coming from Farkas, so she hadn’t realised how close he was to climax. She felt a further rigidity in the length, and it seemed to swell to an alarming thickness in her hand. Suddenly, her mouth was filled with his warm, salty cum. She swallowed it quickly as more spurted from the end. Farkas let out a long moan, and his whole body shuddered with each new jet.

Finally, the geyser subsided, and the tension started to leave the engorged member. Lyara let it fall from her mouth with a pop, before moving up to place her head back on her husband’s chest.

*

Farkas panted as he tried to regain his composure. He kissed the top of her head, causing her to look up, and then he pressed another against her lips. He could taste himself on her a little. It wasn’t totally unpleasant, but he preferred the taste of her juices to his own.

‘I guess that means I am forgiven?’ he asked, a hint of mischief in his deep voice.

‘Yes,’ she laughed. ‘You're forgiven.’

There were a few hours yet until dawn, so for the second time that night, he closed his eyes with a smile still upon his lips, and went to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> United in love and in purpose, Lyara and Farkas find a man that can reveal the story behind the prophecy and the expectations of her as Dragonborn

When they got up the next morning, Farkas asked as they got dressed, ‘So who are we roughing up today?’

Lyara smiled at him. ‘While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I am hoping to not have to do any ‘roughing up’ today. I just need to talk to someone in Riften called Esbern. He is supposed to be one of the last remaining members of the Blades, a powerful order of knights who were bodyguards to the ancient Septim Emperors, and they are committed to fighting dragons. I'm led to believe he has some information about how we can stop them.’

‘So where can we find this Esbern?’ He asked.

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know exactly. I was told by Delphine that he is probably hiding from the Thalmor in somewhere called The Ratway. We need to find him before they do.’

‘Delphine?’

‘From Riverwood. She and I made friends while I was there, and she asked for my help in getting to the bottom of why the dragons are returning.’

They made their way downstairs, and Lyara asked directions from the barkeep, Keerava. She was warned that The Ratway was a rather unsavoury part of town.

The Ratway was a network of underground tunnels that ran under the city of Riften. It was home to the Thieves Guild, and many other sleazy and disagreeable types. When they found the entrance, Lyara pushed the doorway open that led into the tunnels. The way twisted and turned, and became a bit of a maze. They passed several alcoves that seemed to house the lost and forgotten of Riften's society.  Lyara walked into a larger room, and was immediately stopped by two residents of the warren.

The first vagrant walked right up to her, asking her to hand over any valuables and she wrinkled her nose at his smell. He stank of sweat and stale mead. She heard Farkas pull his sword out of its scabbard.

‘Get away from her,’ she heard him growl.

The vagrants appeared to back off, but she felt it was a foil. She was proved right when, as her and Farkas stepped into the next room, she heard their clumsy attempts to attack from the rear. Farkas spun round, his hand having never left his blade. The razor sharp sword spun out when he extended his arm and sliced across the belly of the foremost vagrant, his guts spilling out in hot steaming pile.

Lyara had nocked an arrow, and as soon as she was sure she wouldn’t hit Farkas, she loosed it straight into the throat of the second vagrant, who fell backwards clutching his neck as he choked on his own blood.

She looked to Farkas as he wiped his blade on the dirty clothes of their attackers. He looked at her and nodded to indicate he was ready to carry on. His face was serious, all his senses on full alert. She thought to herself he was very handsome when he meant business.

Lyara took the lead and they carried on through the tunnels. They got to a stairway that passed a room with bars on the door, and Lyara noticed there were books visible in a neat row on a shelf. This struck her as unusual compared to what she had witnessed so far in the warrens. On a hunch, she pushed into the room, and was challenged by an elderly Nord.

‘Are you Esbern?’ Lyara asked him.

‘Who sent you?’ he asked, looking a little fearful, his eyes wide.

‘It’s okay,’ she said, trying to calm the man down. ‘Delphine sent me.’

‘Del… Delphine?’  He seemed to calm slightly then. ‘Why would she send you?’

‘Delphine wants your assistance in getting to the bottom of why the dragons are coming back.’

The man looked a little calmer, but still unsettled at her arrival. ‘So… Delphine keeps up the fight after all these years?’ The old man asked no one in particular. ‘I thought she would have realised its hopeless by now. I tried to tell her years ago.’

‘What do you mean it’s hopeless?’ Lyara asked.

‘Haven’t you figured it out yet? What more needs to happen before you all wake up and see what’s going on.’ Esbern sputtered. Lyara was a little surprised at his outburst. He appeared to be a little mad, but she trusted Delphine and if she said this man could help, well then, she would listen.

‘Alduin has returned, just like the prophecy said. The dragon from the dawn of time will devour the souls of the dead. No one can escape his hunger, here or in the afterlife. Alduin will devour all things and the world will end. Nothing can stop it.’

Esbern started to pace the floor as he continued his tirade. ‘I tried to tell them, but they wouldn’t listen. Fools!  It’s all come true. All we can do is watch our doom approach.’

‘Alduin… the dragon who is raising the others?’ she asked. Delphine had told her that she had witnessed the dragon Alduin speak over a dragon burial ground and raise a long dead dragon back to life.

‘Yes! You see? You know, but you refuse to understand. It has all been foretold, the end has begun. Alduin has returned. Only a Dragonborn can stop him, but no Dragonborn has been known for centuries. It seems that the gods have grown tired of us. They have left us to our fate, the plaything of Alduin the World Eater.’

Lyara put her hand gently on the man’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. She looked him in the eyes and said gently, ‘It is not hopeless Esbern, I am Dragonborn.’

His rheumy eyes looked at her for a second, not believing what he had heard. ‘You are Dragonborn? Can it really be true?’ Lyara nodded in response.

‘Then… then there is hope. The gods have not abandoned us. We must go… go quickly.’ He turned then and started putting a few scrolls and manuscripts into a satchel with a renewed vigour.

His face serious, but looking much more in control, Esbern turned to Lyara and said, ‘Take me to Delphine. We have much to discuss.’

Lyara looked at Farkas, and he just shrugged, before she headed out of the room and led the way out of the warrens. When they pushed through the door leading to the streets of Riften, they were ambushed by a small group of Thalmor agents.

One was a magic user, and he blasted Lyara with what looked like lightening. Stunned and weakened, she staggered back. Farkas charged at the wizard with a mighty roar and ran his blade so hard into the Thalmor mage that he lifted him off his feet.

The other two agents were trying to edge past Farkas, and get to Esbern. As she struggled to her feet she saw Esbern conjure an apparition. It was vaguely female shaped, yet made from living flame. It swooped at one of the attackers. Its touch caused the attacker to blister and burn, and with a deadly embrace, the creature engulfed him and the street rang with his sharp screams of pain.

Lyara shot out a leg and was able to knock the final attacker off his feet onto his back while lifting a dagger from her belt, which she swiftly rammed straight into the middle of the man’s chest as he hit the floor.

The attack over, Farkas and Lyara looked fearfully at the strange apparition, concerned it may turn on them. It did one somersault in the air, and then vanished.

Farkas looked at Lyara.

‘Was that you?’ he asked as he held out a hand to help her off the floor.

Lyara shook her head, and then looked at Esbern. ‘It was the old man.’

‘We need to get out of town quickly,’ growled Farkas. ‘There may be more Thalmor agents, and no doubt the town’s guard are on its way too. Let’s move it!’

The three of them jogged towards the city gates. They made it through just as a commotion was starting. The bodies of the Thalmor had been discovered. Hopefully, as they were directly outside The Ratway, this incident would be blamed on the Thieves Guild.

Lyara purchased an extra horse for Esbern, and the three of them rode their horses away from Riften as quickly as they could.

*

Wilhelm, the owner of the Vilemyr Inn in Ivarstead, was surprised to see Lyara and Farkas again. Lyara paid for two rooms, one for her and Farkas, and one for Esbern.  When Farkas returned from seeing to the horses, the three of them sat together. Esbern was quiet, and hardly spoke as they ate. Instead, the three of them listened to the songs from the Inn’s singer, Lynly Star-Sung. She had great skill with the lute, and a sweet melodic voice.

One song particularly, caught Farkas and Lyara’s attention.

 

_‘Our hero, our hero claims a warrior’s heart_

_I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes_

_With a voice wielding power of the ancient Nord Art_

_Believe, believe the Dragonborn comes_

_It’s an end to the evil of all Skyrim’s foes_

_Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes_

_For the darkness has passed and the legend yet grows_

_You’ll know, you’ll know, the Dragonborn’s come’_

  
The chords were melancholy, and Farkas thought the singer's voice haunting. He reached over the table and placed his hand over Lyara’s. The realisation was finally hitting him that Lyara was this Dragonborn of legend. The whole of Skyrim was relying on her to deal with Alduin, this World Eater!

She was no weakling, he knew that, but she seemed so small and fragile to him then, in the shade of this great responsibility. His heart ached at the thought of the dangers she was yet to face, and vowed that he would stand by her side through it all. He had found the love of his life and he wasn’t about to let some dragon – even if it was a god - take it away.

‘Come, my love, you look tired. Let us go to bed.’

Lyara looked at him, gratitude shining from her red eyes. He noticed with some irritation that she had hardly touched her meal. There were obviously too many vegetables in it, he thought.  He had some dried venison in his pack. He would make sure she ate some before they slept.

‘You would do well to rest too, Old Man,’ he said to Esbern. ‘We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow.’ With that, Farkas led his wife out of the main hall, and up to their room. He had brought some wine with them, and as promised, he made Lyara eat before she slept.

Farkas lay in their bed, Lyara in his arms, her head resting on his chest. Her breathing had slowed and was steady, so he knew she had fallen asleep. He was still haunted by the words of the song. The lyrics ran through his mind, particularly the line ‘ _an end to the evil of all Skyrim’s foe’._ That was a whole lot of evil for one wood elf to fight.

Skyrim was suffering not just from the onslaught of dragon fire, but also from the oppression of the Imperials, the schemes of the Thalmor, and the rebellion of the Stormcloaks. Was she expected to sort all that out too? How can one person do all that?

She had him though, and the Companions. He knew that they would stand by their Harbinger, even Vilkas. He groaned inwardly, when it occurred to him that he would have to talk to Vilkas as soon as they got back. He was not sure how his brother would take the news he was married to Lyara. He looked down at his sleeping wife. He liked calling her that. It sounded right.  He was a little disappointed they had to escort the old milk drinker back to Riverwood.  He had been looking forward to the journey, knowing that it was probably going to be one of the last times for a while that had some time alone.

He knew that things were about to get very busy, and it would all centre on the sleeping wood elf he held in his arms.

*

The cold wet morning did nothing to lift Lyara’s mood. She had had a fitful night’s sleep. Deep down, she felt completely unworthy of being called Dragonborn. She just felt like Lyara Tyranea – a Bosmer from Haven. She was no one special, and was confused why the gods had seen fit to bestow this destiny upon her.

Farkas did his best to lift her spirit. He even managed to coax a smile out of her when he pulled his horse close to hers, and suggested quietly that they allow the old man to go on his way alone for a bit, while they had a quick tumble in the bedroll.

She appreciated his efforts. It warmed her heart every time he called her love, or dear. There was a wealth of feelings in those small words, and it meant a great deal. He may look like a fierce barbarian, and she knew he could be if he was crossed, but his pale soft eyes gave away his gentle soul.

They drove their horses at a fair pace, keen to get to Riverwood before any more bad weather settled in. It was late afternoon when they arrived in Riverwood, and they made their way to the Sleeping Giant Inn. Lyara was pleased to see her friend once again, and they greeted each other warmly. Delphine raised her eyebrows in surprise when Lyara introduced Farkas as her husband, but made no further comment.

She led the three travellers into her room, and once the door was closed, she opened a false panel behind a wardrobe that led down to a secret room. Here was where Delphine had done all her research over the past few years.

Lyara and Farkas stood helpless as Delphine and Esbern argued about what the next step should be. Eventually, it was decided that they needed to get into Sky Haven Temple, an ancient temple located deep in the belly of Karthspire, a ruined temple built long ago by the Dwemer, an ancient race of Dwarves.

Within the temple, was Alduin’s Wall. A hieroglyphic freeze, carved in stone depicting how Alduin had been defeated by the ancient Nord long ago. Delphine warned that it would not be easy to get into, as camped near to the entrance were a large band of Forsworn, an aggressive organisation of indigenous Bretons that objected to what they saw as the Nord’s occupation of Skyrim. Esbern also explained that once inside, there would be challenges to overcome before entrance to the inner sanctum could be gained, challenges that could only be completed by the Dragonborn.

‘I have things I need to prepare before we travel,’ said Delphine to Lyara. ‘We will meet you there in a few days.’ Lyara nodded agreement. That was acceptable. She had a few things to sort out herself.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyara and Farkas return to Jorrvaskr. Farkas tells his brother about his nuptials which leads to a confrontation between Vilkas and Lyara

Although it was starting to get dark, Lyara and Farkas agreed that they would push on and make it back to Whiterun.  They took fresh horses, and made the journey in a few hours. It was almost midnight when they slipped into Jorrvaskr. A few of the Companions hailed them as they walked through the mead hall, but they didn’t stop to chat as they were tired from the journey.

Farkas automatically headed to his room, and Lyara followed him. It occurred to him that she may prefer to sleep in Kodlak’s old quarters, but she insisted this was fine.

Lyara unstrapped her armour, and sat cross legged on his bed in her undergarments as he hung up their armour. Farkas was amused by the image, as it was quite childlike, and made her look very young. He sat behind her, in only his breechcloth, his legs out at either side of her. He proceeded to massage the knots in her shoulders, and was pleased when she moaned with pleasure.

He was sure her moans were just the muscle tension leaving her body, but it caused a response from his already thickening cock. As he rubbed at her shoulders the feel of her soft skin under his fingers, combined with her quiet moans, caused a hardness that was now tenting in his underwear.

Using one hand, he untied the fastenings on his breechcloth, and let his erect penis spring forth. The tip was pointing straight up, and almost reached his belly button. He shuffled himself a fraction closer to his love, his legs folded on either side of her. He gently rocked his pelvis causing the swollen purple tip of his shaft to rub against the smooth skin of Lyara’s back.

He then wrapped his arms around her, and cupped a breast in each hand. He toyed with her nipples through the thin material, feeling them stiffen. He stopped briefly to pull her vest over her head. Now he had free access to her supple flesh, he squeezed and rolled the nubs between his large rough fingers.

*

Lyara laid her head back against his shoulder. Arching her back, she pressed her chest into his hand. Farkas nuzzled into her neck and she felt his soft lips leaving tender kisses while his stubble grazed her deliciously.

She undid the ties at each hip to remove her final piece of clothing. She sighed with pleasure as he continued to graze her neck with his mouth and stroke her nipples with his hands. As she slid her hands up and down his muscular thighs, she again counted herself very lucky. To her, he was the perfect example of a man, built of brawn and muscle in exquisite proportions, with a large heart and a brave soul.

She could feel the heat from his prick as it rubbed against her back, and his balls tickled her ass. A flood of moisture was gathering in her pussy, and she could feel herself getting slicker. Almost as if he read her mind, one of Farkas’s hand moved down her belly and his fingers strummed her clit, until she cried out.

*

Unable to take much more of this, Farkas put his large hands at either side of her waist, and with bulging arms easily lifted her up and back until she hovered above his raging cock. Lyara uncrossed her legs and planted a knee either side of his thighs. Leaning forward then, she was able to slowly push herself back until she had completely impaled herself on him.

She took a few moments to languish in the feeling of being stretched. Holding her weight on her arms and knees, she proceeded to gently rock back and forth.

Farkas was presented with the wonderfully erotic sight of her sculptured ass as it pumped up and down his length. He watched his dick disappearing into her depths, then reappearing glistening with her juices. Her pussy gripped his cock like a moist glove, and he needed to drive himself harder.

Pushing her forward slightly, gave him enough room to piston his hips hard and fast, driving his cock to the hilt with each thrust.

*

Lyara started to let out a long moan, her climax hurtling towards her. She was on fire, and his substantial cock scraping her insides was sending her to new heights of pleasure. When she came, it was with a ferocity that surpassed anything she had previously experienced with any partner.

Farkas pulled her close as he spilled his hot seed into her. She felt his cum rush up inside her, and as her internal muscles relaxed, it ran out again, and down her inner thigh. She sat her full weight on him then. Both of them spent, and she languished in the slippery sensation of his dick moving inside her slick pussy.

Eventually, she lifted herself off him and flopped next to him on the bed. She pressed her back against him and pulled his furs to cover them both. Farkas was almost soft, but there was just enough rigidity left for him to slip back into her core. He lay still, enjoying the luxury of bathing his cock in her juices. Lyara was more than happy for them to remain in this position. She loved the feel of him inside her, and wished she could feel like this all the time.

*

In the morning when she woke, Farkas was on his back snoring loudly. Lyara elbowed him and he woke with a start. ‘Huh? What?’

‘Good morning, dear,’ she said to him with a sweet innocent smile.

Sleepily, he returned the smile. ‘Good morning to you too, my love.’

‘I have a question,’ said Lyara.

‘Go on,’ said Farkas, already looking a little nervous.

‘Why do you have a bar in your room?’ The far corner of his room, opposite the door, had a short but obvious bar. Most people would have a desk, or a bookshelf in their room. Farkas had a bar. ‘Is this all part of your tavern wench fetish?’ Lyara teased him.

Farkas laughed and blushed. ‘No, it’s not a fetish.’ He sat up and rubbed his eyes. ‘A few years ago, I had a strange fancy that I would leave the Companions one day, and that I perhaps should have another trade to fall back on. I have always quite liked the idea of being a carpenter, so as a way to practice, and something to do with my free time, I built a bar.’

‘In your room?’ asked Lyara, still bemused.

‘Yes. Where else could I have built it?’

Lyara looked at it again. It did appear to be well made. ‘So, you see yourself leaving the Companions at some point?’ she asked

Farkas' brow furred in deep thought about his answer before speaking. ‘I love what I do. I am good at it, but I will never be a leader like Kodlak--able to sit and pour over books and scrolls when I am too old to fight.  I need to do something physical, it is where my strength lies.’

He put his arms round her waist and pulled her closer to him. ‘Also, I have had thoughts recently about maybe settling down, and starting a family. The life of a Companion is too dangerous for married folk. Married Companion’s tend to find themselves widowed fairly quickly.’

Lyara’s face split into a huge grin. A family? Thoughts of a home, and children were the stuff of dreams for her, but maybe, once all this nonsense was over, there was a chance.

‘A family would be great,’ she whispered, and kissed him softly on the lips.

‘For now though, I need to find us somewhere to live.’ She continued.  ‘Living here at Jorrvaskr is great, but I think that we need our privacy.’ She said as she stood to get dressed. She didn’t want to wear the red dress in her pack as she wanted to keep that for best. She realised that the plain dress Tilma gave her was still in Kodlak’s old room, so she went to fetch it.

Farkas had looked on in amusement as she walked out of his room in nothing but her underwear. He was fully dressed by the time she got back clothed in the cream dress.

‘I am going to go see the Proventus, and sort out this house.’

‘Okay, my love,’ he said, gathering her in his arms for a quick kiss. ‘I need to go find Vilkas.’

She winced at him. ‘Good luck,’ she said, as she waved a quick goodbye. As she was stepping out of his room, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back inside kissing her once more, deeply this time. He looked gently into her eyes.

‘You know… I never did anything with the wench in Ivarstead. After you left I felt awful, and gave her some coin then sent her packing. I fell asleep moments later in my bed. Alone.’

Lyara didn’t say anything, fearful that her voice would betray the emotions of relief and love welling up inside her. She stroked his cheek and went on her way.

*

Farkas found his brother in his quarters. He knocked and walked in, and Vilkas looked up and smiled at his brother. ‘How goes the hunt, brother?’

‘It goes well, brother.’ Farkas replied, as he desperately tried to remember the speech he had rehearsed.

‘Have you finished escorting our new Harbinger on her nonsense trips? I hope so, as I want to ask you to do a favour for me.’ His brother asked.

Farkas winced slightly at the way Vilkas had said the word ‘Harbinger’. ‘Brother, it is about the Harbinger… about Lyara that I wish to speak to you.’

Vilkas just looked at him a little puzzled. ‘I… er… have had feelings for her for some time now.’ He was interrupted by an incredulous sputter from his twin, but he didn’t speak so Farkas continued. ‘Look… while we were on the road… we... got married.’ Farkas braced himself for the onslaught.

Vilkas just stared at him. He then rolled his eyes, and stood up laughing at him.

‘Why did you go and do a fool thing like that? If you wanted to get your dick wet, you should have just gone ahead and bedded her. You didn’t need to marry her, you fool!’

Farkas was starting to get angry now. ‘It’s not like that Vilkas. I love her. I wanted to marry her… and if you don’t start showing her a little more respect around me… then we are going to have a problem.’ 

The smile vanished off Vilkas’s face. He studied Farkas’s expression for a moment and saw that he was serious. ‘I apologise then. But I confess, I still don’t understand what you see in her.’ Vilkas said with a resigned sigh.

Farkas smiled a little then, in relief. ‘Then let me tell you.’ Now he had an opportunity to talk about his favourite subject, Lyara. He sat Vilkas down and explained to him all about her abilities, and being Dragonborn, and the great weight of responsibility she had on her shoulders. He wanted to demonstrate to Vilkas that she was a person worthy of his love.

After his speech, Vilkas looked thoughtful, and smiled at Farkas. He just nodded, and patted his brother on the back, and congratulated him.

‘Now, this job I want you to do,’ he said changing the subject quickly. ‘I want to give Ria more experience out in the field. Could you accompany her to capture, or kill if necessary, an escaped prisoner? He was last seen heading south out of Morthal. If you leave now, you should encounter him on the road.’

Farkas hesitated in responding. He wanted to let Lyara know before he headed out, but he didn’t want to mention this as Vilkas may twist it and use it as another reason to dislike her. ‘Okay. Tell Lyara where I have gone though, won’t you brother? And that I shall be back tomorrow.’

Vilkas nodded. ‘Yes, don’t worry. I will tell her.’

*

A few hours later when Lyara returned to Jorrvaskr, she looked all over to find Farkas to give him the good news about their home. She was surprised to find Vilkas waiting for her in Farkas’ quarters. He stood when she walked in the room and he had a smile on his face, yet she couldn’t say he looked pleased to see her.

‘Farkas has asked me to tell you that he has gone out on a little job with Ria.’

‘With Ria?’ she asked. ‘What job is this?’

‘Apprehension of an escaped criminal. She needs the experience, but I didn’t want her to go alone. She asked for Farkas and he agreed.’ Lyara was a little surprised that Farkas didn’t wait to tell her himself, but if the matter was urgent then he would not have been able to wait.  She thanked Vilkas for letting her know and headed out of the room.

‘He told me you know,’ Vilkas called towards her.  She turned to face him, and his cold stare. ‘He told me that you have wed,’ he continued, the last word said with a distasteful sneer.

‘Is this a problem?’ Lyara asked him, her voice full of challenge. She was finished taking crap from this idiot just because he was Farkas’ brother.

‘Not if you truly love each other, it isn’t.’ He smirked, and sat down at the small table, and started to slice an apple with his dagger.

‘Of course we do,’ Lyara responded, trying to keep her temper under control. ‘I love Farkas with all my heart, and he loves me.’

‘Are you sure he does?’

Lyara was too stunned to respond, and before she got a chance to, Vilkas continued. ‘Farkas is a gentle soul, as you no doubt know. He is instinctively protective of those weaker than him. It is an admirable quality, I agree. I cannot help thinking that he sees you, a Bosmer in Skyrim, during these times of political upheaval, as being in danger.’ He stabbed a slice of apple and using the dagger tip, placed it in his mouth. Once he had finished chewing, he continued.

‘The Nords of Skyrim are backing Ulfric and his Stormcloaks to remove the Imperial rule, as well as their Altmer masters, the Thalmor.  It is a difficult time to be an elf in Skyrim. He also told me about your… other responsibilities.  As Harbinger and Dragonborn, you may be bringing yourself unnecessary attention from the Thalmor. You could be in a lot of danger’

Lyara could see what he was doing. He was questioning Farkas’ motives, hoping to cause a division between them. ‘I am quite capable of looking after myself, as well Farkas knows.’ She stepped up close to him, and placed her lips near his ear before saying, ‘Something you would do well to remember.’

When she stood up, she had Vilkas’ dagger in her hand. He looked shocked, as he had never felt her take it. She pointed the blade towards him, before quickly stabbing it into a piece of apple. She used the blade to place the slice of fruit in her mouth, mimicking his earlier actions. She then stuck the blade into the table, and left the room.

She went into Kodlak’s rooms, and slammed the door. She was angry at Vilkas, but decided not to dwell on what he had said. That was exactly what he wanted her to do. She decided to take the rest of the day to go over some notes of Kodlak’s and any other Companion business that needed her attention. Her house wasn’t ready yet, but she had paid a little extra for it to be cleaned, then furnished. She hoped it would be done by tomorrow morning when Farkas was due to return.

Aela stopped by for a visit and Timla brought her food, but other than that, Lyara saw no one else for the rest of the day. She slept in Kodlak’s room that night. The absence of Farkas in her bed was awful. All night long she couldn't shake the feeling something was missing, and woke several times reaching out for him in the dark. With nothing else to distract her, she lay awake thinking about what Vilkas had said. She knew that he said it purely out of spite, but what if Vilkas was right?

Farkas was instinctively protective, that much was true. It was part of what made him such a good Companion. You could always rely on him to do the right thing. Was Vilkas right about his feelings? Did Farkas marry her out of some misguided duty? Did he feel that as his Harbinger, he couldn’t refuse? She would have been devastated if he had, but she would not have held it against him.  

Lyara tried hopelessly to get back to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyara and Farkas move to their new home, but destiny does not wait. They journey with Esbern and Delphine to find a way to defeat Alduin

For the rest of the night Lyara slipped in and out of consciousness. Her dreams were filled with her and Farkas having surreal and disjointed conversations where her worst fears were realised when he admitted he did not really love her.

She awoke feeling awful. She was tired and irritable, and very conscious that she had to get ready to join Delphine and Esbern tomorrow. She washed her face in a bowl of rose-scented water Tilma had brought her, and forced herself to go upstairs for some food.

She wearily climbed the stairs from the living area up into the mead hall. Suddenly, her heart thumped in her chest when she heard a familiar deep voice.  As her head rose above the stairs, and the hall came in to view, she saw Farkas talking to Ria. A flash of jealousy surged through for a brief second, but it soon passed. She was not really the jealous type, and in a tight group like the Companions, one could not afford to be.

When Farkas spotted her, his face broke into a huge smile. It was like the sun coming up, and its light and warmth burnt away her doubts and fears. He nodded a thank you and goodbye to Ria, then walked towards her, his face still beaming.

‘Hello love,’ he said with a kiss on her cheek.’ It’s nice to see you dear.’

He looked around him as he stepped closer, looking a little bashful, but the room was empty other than the two of them as Ria was already heading out of the back door. He bent his head down and kissed her softly on the lips. When their kiss broke, he put his arms around her waist and crushed her too him, lifting her feet off the ground and smothering her mouth with his once again. This kiss was not gentle. It was firm, hot and passionate and spoke of great longing. The last of her doubts were washed away by that kiss, and the softness of his eyes as he gazed at her.

‘I’ve missed you,’ she said.

‘Good,’ he laughed. ‘I’ve missed you too.’

‘Put me down, I have something to show you.’ She grabbed his hand and led him out of the front door of Jorrvaskr. They wove through the Gildergreen, past the market and the Bannered Mare, until she stopped outside a small house, opposite the Drunken Huntsman, near the city gate.

Farkas was unsure at first why they had stopped, then realised she had faced him towards the house.

‘Is that yours?’

‘No, ours,’ she answered.

She pulled a key out of her pocket, and unlocked the front door. Fortunately, the place had been cleaned and the furniture delivered as promised.  The main room had a small fire pit, over which a pot hung on a cast iron hook. There was a weapons rack, and a few bookshelves. Further back in the room was a dining table, laid out with a few plates, bowls and goblets.

Under the stairs that led up to the bedrooms, was the door to another smaller room which contained a large copper bath tub. They headed up the stairs, Farkas first, and he was delighted to see a large comfortable bed. It had furs already on, and there was storage in the room for their clothes and armour.

 He immediately started to strip off. In a flash he was down to his breechcloth, and he started pulling at Lyara’s clothes while nuzzling into her neck.

‘Stop!’ She giggled. ‘Wait a moment, you big oaf.’

‘What is it?’ he said, confused, but his ardour was not to be dampened going by the protrusion at the front of his breech cloth.

‘Why don’t we take a bath first?’

‘What is it with you and baths?’ he asked, rolling his eyes. He himself was not much of a fan of baths, preferring to dunk himself occasionally in any convenient river or lake.

‘It is one of the few times I ever feel warm in this bloody province.’

‘Together?’ he suggested, hopefully.

Lyara laughed softly, realising it was probably the only way she would get him in the water. ‘Yes. Together.’

They headed back down stairs to heat some water over the fire. While the water warmed, Lyara sat on her husband’s lap, and they exchanged soft kisses and quiet words of affection.

*

Once the water was ready, Farkas removed his underwear and got into the tub. He sat upright against one end, and had just enough room to stretch out his long legs. Lyara fetched her soap and then shimmied out of her dress.

Farkas was mesmerised once more, as his eyes travelled up and down her naked form. It had only been one night they were apart, but it was as if he was seeing her for the first time.  She stepped into the water, then sat on his lap facing him, a knee either side of his legs. She wet a small piece of cloth and rubbed it onto the soap. Farkas grabbed her hand, and sniffed it.

‘Snowberries!’ he exclaimed, the biggest grin on his face, as if some deep mystery had just been solved.

Lyara just smiled, and proceeded to wash the dirt and grime from his face and neck. She then rinsed the cloth in the water, and squeezed it over his face to rinse off the suds. She reapplied some soap, and repeated the process on his arms and chest. As she washed his firm belly, she could see the tip of his erection bobbing under the surface of the water. She ran her hands along its length, and watched Farkas’ face as he sighed with pleasure. Raising herself up slightly, she guided his cock into her. She then sat back down, his length completely buried deep inside her, as she continued to wash him.

Farkas instinctively put his arms around her to rest on her rump. Lyara removed his hands, and firmly placed them on the edge of the tub. _Okay_ , he thought, _I get the message. No touching_. He closed his eyes again, and let the sweet smell of snowberries waft up his nose as Lyara continued to wash him. He was so relaxed in the warm water, with her fingers running through his hair, that if it hadn’t been for his raging hard-on buried deep in her core, he would have probably fallen asleep. He found instead, he was able to concentrate on enjoying the tiniest of pleasurable sensations caused by her fingers on his body, and the small contractions of her inner walls as she moved in front of him. It was exquisite and sensual, and he never wanted it to end.

*

Lyara wondered if Farkas knew how beautiful he was under all that dirt. She looked at the serene expression on his face. His eyes were closed, and his long black lashes rested on his cheeks. He had a large masculine nose, and wide cheekbones. His strong square jaw was covered in its usual stubble that surrounded his soft full lips.

She dropped the cloth into the water and placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, then slowly started to move up and down his shaft. Eyes the colour of a cloudless winter sky opened to look back at her. They were pale and icy, yet held a promise of warmth. She moved only slightly as her arousal had been building for some time, and needed very little stimulus. Going by the expression on her lover’s face, the same applied.

*

Farkas could feel his balls starting to ache, desperate for release. He looked down into the water to see the piece of soap floating by her leg, and snatched at it. He rubbed his hands together, until they were slick with the soap. He dropped it back into the water, before cupping his hands over her breasts.

His hands glided over her erect nipples, and then back around for another pass. Her skin was smooth and slick as his soap-covered hands slipped under her breasts, pushing them and squeezing them.

Eventually, enough of the soap rubbed off for the palms to gain purchase, and pushing the mounds together, he rubbed the sensitive nubs of her nipples with his thumbs. 

Lyara let out a moan, and threw her head back. Her eyes rolled back slightly and she shuddered over him. He tried to hold back but couldn’t, and released his load deep in her belly.  He felt as if he was going to pass out, as the orgasm that had been a long time coming ripped through him, and was so intense it was almost painful.

Once they had recovered enough from their climax to stand, Lyara climbed off Farkas, then stepped out of the tub before turning and helping him up. They headed upstairs to their bedroom, leaving a trail of wet foot prints behind them.

*

Still damp, they snuggled under the soft furs, and Lyara was content as Farkas wrapped his strong arms about her. He lay on his back, and she pressed her body as close as she could, and rested her head on her chest, as one of his hands traced slow lazy circles at the small of her back. She was amazed that this felt so right, so perfect.  There were no doubts at all left in her mind about whether Farkas truly loved her.

She hoped that in time Vilkas would accept her as his brother’s wife, as she knew their estrangement would cause Farkas a great amount of pain. She hoped that his hostility towards her was nothing more than some misguided over-protectiveness. Vilkas, as the elder twin had obviously assumed the mantel of guardian for the two orphans. She was not sure what she had to do to show Vilkas that she would not hurt his brother, but she would be happy to spend the rest of her life proving it.

‘Since leaving Valenwood as a young elf, I've spent years wandering the lands of Tamriel working as a mercenary. I took any job, some I am not proud of, as long as there was coin in it. It made me quite rich, but all the time I was wandering, I think I was searching for a home, a family, somewhere I felt I belonged. I have that now, and it’s right here.’

She pointed her finger into the centre of her husband’s chest. ‘I don’t mean the Companions, or Jorrvaskr, or even this house. It is here, in your arms. For the first time, I really feel like I have come home.’

*

Farkas was so full of emotion at the words of his love that he couldn’t speak, lest his voice betray him. He tightened his grip around her.  He wanted to tell her he would love her for the rest of his life, but decided to show her instead.

*

Much later, tired, happy and thoroughly satisfied, she gently drifted to sleep, the trace of a smile still on her lips. As she did, one of her last thoughts before unconsciousness claimed her was that Farkas always called her love, or dear, but in public he referred to as Harbinger, or Sister. The words may have been different, but the sentiment and the way he said them were not.

The following day, they rose early, and made their way to Jorrvaskr to gather supplies. They headed west out of Whiterun, and made it to the bridge near Karthspire where they had agreed to meet with Delphine and Esbern.

They found the two Blades waiting around a smile campfire. They offered Lyara and Farkas some food, but when it was declined, they suggested that they make their way inside.

They had to fight through a small group of Forsworn rebels, and then made their way down into the depths of the old Dwarven ruin.  The inside of the mountain had been carved by the ancient Dwemers into a breath-taking spectacle. Spires jutted out of the walls, and the ceiling of the cave had been carved into a dome.  Esbern led them to the edge of an abyss. A giant bridge arched across the deep expanse, and the party made their way across carefully.

It was an amazing engineering accomplishment and Lyara smiled as Farkas gawped at his surroundings. Looking above them as he crossed the bridge, all he could say was, ‘That’s… that’s… wow.’

On the other side of the bridge was a small anti-room. Esbern prevented anyone from entering the room that lay the other side of the doorway. He explained that there were pressure pads along the floor, and if the wrong slab of stone was stepped on, there would be dire consequences. He pointed at the small holes around the wall that probably hid poisonous darts. Delphine spotted a chain next to the door at the other end of the room, which Esbern agreed could disarm the trap. Lyara volunteered to cross the room and pull the chain.

Her stealth training paid off.  Pressing her feet gently on one slab at a time, she controlled the distribution of her weight carefully. Her every sense and nerve strained for the slightest indication that she was incorrect, and she was able to feel the movement of the trigger before it had time to go off.

*

Farkas watched helplessly from the door way, holding his breath and praying to Talos that she made it to the other side. When she finally reached the other door, and pulled the chain, he let all his breath out in a big whoosh, and laughed slightly in relief.

*

The rest of them joined Lyara in front of the large door that, according to Esbern, led to the final chamber. The door appeared to be locked, yet there was no keyhole. Esbern rifled through some scrolls from his satchel, and with a small cry of realisation, he told Lyara that the door could only be opened by the blood of the Dragonborn.  She took the dagger strapped to her leg, and drew it across her hand. Squeezing her hand around the wound, she forced a few drops of blood onto a plate in front of the door.

Nothing seemed to happen at first, and for a second, Lyara felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps she was not the Dragonborn after all. Her hopes were dashed when she heard metal gears, long unused, starting to grind back into life, and the door slowly opened.

In the middle of the room was a large table that you could easily fit twenty people on either side.  Along the back of the room was a huge curved stone wall that had a series of images and symbols engraved on it that told the story of Alduin. Carved hundreds of years ago, it told how the ancient Nord heroes had defeated the dragon god and his dragon priests.

Esbern immediately went to work translating the story. Once again, he anxiously rifled through his scrolls, looking up various symbols and muttering to himself.  Lyara walked around the cavernous room with Delphine to see what else was in the room.

‘This would make an excellent base for the Blades,’ her friend mused aloud.  It had small rooms off the sides, which would be perfect for offices or sleeping quarters.

Lyara looked at her in surprise. ‘You plan on reforming the Blades?’

Delphine looked at her, and nodded. ‘Of course! The dragons have returned, so must we. Even with Alduin defeated, we would have the countless number of dragons he has already resurrected to defeat. We will start recruiting immediately. I will not stop until all the dragons are dead and buried.’

At an exclamation from Esbern, the two women turned around, and walked back towards the scholar. They were joined by Farkas, and the three of them stood and listened to the old man as he explained.

He told a story of a human rebellion during the time of dragon rule.  Some of the dragons had sided with the humans, unhappy with Alduin’s rule, and they taught the humans the power of _Thu’um_. Words of Power, or shouts, were created by dragons, but the mortals created one that could be used to defeat the dragons. It forced the dragon to understand the meaning of mortality, a concept so incomprehensible to the immortal beings, it would tear at their very souls forcing them to land.

Once out of the air, they were vulnerable to attack from the steel of man. This shout was called Dragonrend

Esbern turned to Lyara. ‘You need to learn the Dragonrend shout if you are to have any hope of defeating Alduin. You should go back and talk to the Greybeards at High Hrothgar. They have studied the Words of Power for centuries.’

Lyara was weary of travel, and did not relish the thought of having to once again journey half way across Skyrim. She must have visibly deflated, as Farkas put his arm around her shoulders and rubbed her arm in a gesture of support. She looked at him, grateful once again for his solid presence.

They decided to stay at the Sky Temple for the night, and then head back to Whiterun first thing tomorrow.  With luck, they could be in Ivarstead by the end of the following day.


	12. Chapter 12

Lyara snuggled as close as she could get to Farkas that night. His arm around her was a great comfort, but she just couldn’t relax or get warm. They had no bedroll, only their cloaks, and the cold of the hard stone floor of the Dwemer temple seeped into her very bones. Exhaustion must have eventually over taken her, as she finally drifted off to sleep. When she woke a few hours later, she was stiff and cramped, but eager to get on the road.

The weather was unseasonably mild, for which Lyara was very grateful. There was a chill in the air, but the sun shone brightly, glinting off their armour. Lyara and Farkas passed the time telling each other more about their pasts.  Despite her bad mood, he managed to make her laugh a few times, especially when he told about a fight he once had with Vilkas when they were children over a girl, and he had broken his brother’s nose. 

'Tell me about how you ended up in the Companions,' Lyara asked.

'We had both always longed to be warriors, so I suppose it was inevitable. Our father had been a city guard in Whiterun but was killed during a Forsworn ambush while out on patrol. Mother had died when we were very young from an illness I was too young to know what it was called. Kodlak had been a friend of our father, so regularly visited in the orphanage. As soon as we turned sixteen, he brought us to Jorrvaskr where we have lived ever since.'

Grief over the loss of Kodlak was clearly evident on his face, and Lyara regretted asking him. She shared more about her time in Valenwood in an effort to distract him.

'I finally decided to leave Valenwood at 15 when my grandparents tried to force me into an arranged marriage. Estranged from my family, and almost an outcast among my people, I decided to head north in search of my father.'

'I made it to the largely Nord populated town of Bruma. I asked around for information, but no one seemed to know who I was after. I had very little information to go on as my grandparents wouldn't even tell me what he looked like.' 

She shook her head. 'After I bested one of their men in a brawl for money at the age of 16, I was invited to join a band of mercenaries from the Fighters Guild. They taught me how to fight with bow and steel, and how to survive in some of the more unsavoury parts of the world. They weren't everyone's idea of a family, but we all looked out for each other and it was the closest thing I had known... until now that is,' she added. ‘You, and the Companions are my family now,’ she beamed at him.

*

Farkas could not help but return the smile. It was not often he saw her smile like that, which was a shame, because it lit up her whole face.  Her eyes sparkled, and some of the worry lifted from her brow.

The stories brought them even closer together, and Farkas felt that he was finally seeing what drove this unusual woman into the life she now led.

Once in Whiterun, they slept in their new home rather than head back to Jorrvaskr, and headed straight back out the next morning. Lyara slept much better that night than she had done the previous night. The bed was comfortable, and Farkas kept his arm around her all-night so she felt warm and safe. 

Fresh horses and temperate weather allowed them to skirt around the bottom of The Throat of the World without too much delay, and they reached Ivarstead just before midnight. Wilhelm, the owner of the Vilemyr Inn, greeted them like old friends. He showed them to a room and promised to send up some food shortly.

Lyara was so exhausted, she just wanted to sleep, but Farkas made her wait up and eat. In the morning, he woke just after dawn, and saw that Lyara was still sound asleep. They had to go up the ‘7000 Steps’ but it would only take about an hour to get up the path, so he could see no reason why she should not sleep for a little while longer. He lay awake, with her head resting on his chest, happy to just listen to her breathing.

*

When she did wake, she quickly got ready, eager to get this over with. Arriving downstairs in the main bar area, Wilhelm offered them both some breakfast of ham and eggs. It was all freshly prepared, and the smell made Farkas’ tummy growl. Lyara was going to decline, but when she heard his stomach rumble, and saw the plaintive expression on his face, she agreed.  Farkas smiled a grateful smile, before tucking into his food so fast it was as if he had never eaten. Lyara ate hers, but not with quite the same gusto.

Between mouthfuls, Farkas told her that she didn’t look after herself properly, and she was just picking at her food. He told her that they were not leaving until she had eaten it all as she needed to keep her strength up. She scowled at him in jest, and said that he was just trying to make her fat.

When they arrived at High Hrothgar, the silent monks inside nodded in greeting as they moved through the main hall. Eventually, Arngier, the leader of the Greybeards, appeared and asked her why she was here. She told him that the Blades had shown her Alduin’s Wall, and that it had revealed the secret to defeating Alduin was in the shout known as Dragonrend.

Arngier was immediately hostile at the mention of the Blades, and Dragonrend. ‘That is just typical of those blood thirsty Blades. Dragonrend was a shout created from hate, and I refuse to teach this to you.’

Lyara pleaded with him, but he stubbornly refused to listen. Suddenly, a disembodied voice boomed around the cold walls of High Hrothgar. Lyara could not understand the language, but instinctively, she understood that it was dragon tongue.

With a resigned sigh, Arngier told her that Paarthurnax, the true leader of the Greybeards, demanded to see her. Arngier led her out of the back to the courtyard area.

The wind was blowing cold and fierce, and Arngier had to shout to make himself heard. He pointed to a small archway at the back of the courtyard, which led to a path that took them to the very top of The Throat of the World. It was here that she would meet with Paarthurnax. Wrapping their cloaks tightly around them, Lyara and Farkas made their way through the arch.

*

Farkas was not happy. He told her he didn’t particularly enjoy heights, and the path was extremely narrow. Slowly and carefully, they made their way up higher and higher. The wind whipped up the snow about them, until they could barely see where they were going.

Finally at the top, they seemed to leave the wind behind and the air became still and calm. Lyara looked around trying to spot a dwelling of some kind that the leader of the Greybeards could be hiding in.

‘Get ready for a fight!’ Farkas yelled.

*

Lyara immediately had her bow in her hand, and an arrow nocked, then looked in the direction of Farkas’ gaze. At the pinnacle of the mountain, upon a large stone outcrop, was a dragon. It was covered in pale grey scales, and was much larger than the one she had fought in Whiterun. It stared at her with its large red reptilian-eyes before jumping down and landing several feet away from them.

‘ _Drem Yor Lok_. Greetings, I am Paarthurnax.’

Lyara froze, wondering why the dragon was not attacking. _Is this who the Greybeards sent me to see?_ She recalled Esbern saying that some of the dragons that had fought with Alduin all those years ago had betrayed him and sided with the humans, teaching them the _Thu’um_. _Was this such a creature?_ she wondered.

She slowly lowered her bow as the dragon was not making any hostile gestures, and she didn’t want to antagonize it. Erring on the side of caution, they kept their distance. Farkas seemed reluctant to lower his sword, but he held back, following her lead. She was pleased to see that he was poised and ready to charge at a moment’s notice.

‘Who are you? What brings you to my mountain?’ The ancient dragon spoke to them, his voice slow and deliberate. Lyara was amazed that he could even speak.

 ‘Are you the master of the Greybeards?’ Lyara asked in return.

‘They see me as master, as old and wise, and it is true I am old. Tell me? Why do you intrude on my meditation?’

‘I wish to learn the Dragonrend Word of Power. Are you able to teach me?’

‘Patience. There are formalities that must be observed at the first meeting of two of the _Dov_. The elder speaks first.’

The dragon stretched up his neck to its full height.

‘Hear my _Thu’um_. Feel it in your bones, and match it if you are _Dovakiin_.’

The great beast turned towards the rocky outcrop.

‘ _YOL TOOR SHUL_ ,’ he bellowed, and a great jet of flame shot from his mouth. So hot was this flame that it quickly melted the snow, and caused the rock to smoulder. As the rock glowed, it became clear there were words inscribed in Dragon tongue on the wall. Something deep in Lyara reacted to those words, and their knowledge was transferred into her. Instinctively, she knew she could repeat what the dragon had just done.

She placed a hand on Farkas’ chest, signalling for him to stay back, before walking closer to the dragon. Paarthurnax looked at her with eyes as big as her head. Razor sharp teeth protruded from a jaw that could have easily bitten her in half.

‘Now, show me what you can do. Greet me not as a mortal, but as a _Dovah_!’ Paarthurnax ordered.

She turned to face the dragon, and let out her own cry.

‘ _YOL TOOR SHUL._ ’ A jet of flame, not quite as impressive as that of Paarthurnax, came forth.

‘Aaahhh yes... dragon blood runs strong in you. It is long since I had the pleasure of speech with one of my own kind.’ Lyara figured he must be referring to her dragon soul.

‘So, you have made your way here, to me. No easy task for a poor… mortal,’ he finished with a sinister chuckle. ‘Even for one of the _Dovah Sos_. Dragon Blood. You would not come all this way for _tinvaak_ with an old _Dovah_. You seek your weapon against Alduin.’

‘Yes. I wish to learn Dragonrend.’

‘First, a question. Why do you wish to defeat Alduin?’

Lyara thought this an odd question. ‘I want to prevent Alduin from destroying the world.’

‘Some would say that all things must end, so that the next can come to pass. Perhaps this world is the egg of the next. Would you stop the next world from being born.’

Lyara was starting to grow impatient with all this philosophy. ‘I like this world, and I don’t want it destroyed. The next world can take care of itself.’

The dragon seemed thoughtful for a moment. ‘Maybe you only serve to balance those that work towards the world’s destruction. But, you have indulged my weakness for speech long enough, and so now, I will answer your question. I live here, at the peak of the _Monahven_ , the Throat of the World, because this is the very spot that Alduin was defeated by ancient tongues. Perhaps none but me remember how he was defeated.’

‘Did the Dragonrend shout not defeat him?’ asked Lyara.

‘Yes, and no. Alduin was not truly defeated. If he was, you would not be here now seeking a way to defeat him.’ Lyara saw the lips of the dragon move and twitch, in what she could only imagine was the approximation of a smile.

‘The Nords of those days used the Dragonrend shout to cripple Alduin, but this was not enough. It was Kel – the Elder Scroll. They used it to cast him adrift the on the currents of time.‘

‘Are you saying the ancient Nords sent him forward in time?’

‘Not intentionally. Some hoped he would be gone forever. Forever lost. I knew better. Time flows ever onward. One day, he would resurface, which is why I have lived here these thousands of mortal years. I knew where he would emerge, just not when.’

Lyara couldn’t help but think how this old dragon reminded her of Esbern. ‘How did the Elder Scroll accomplish this?’

‘The Elder Scrolls are an artifact from outside time. It does not exist, but has always existed. They are fragments of creation and are often used by your kind for prophecy. The prophecy of your arrival comes from an Elder Scroll.’

‘I do not mean to be discourteous, but how does this help me?’ Lyara asked.

‘Time was shattered here because of what the ancient Nords did to Alduin.  As a _Dovah_ , you should be able to cast yourself back to the other end of the Time-wound, and learn Dragonrend from those who created it.’

Lyara’s head was swimming from all the information. If she understood Paarthurnax correctly, he was suggesting she travel back in time and learn the Dragonrend shout from its original creators.

Paarthurnax made his way to the wall, and with one almighty claw, pulled a section of it down. Inside was a small hollow. He turned his head towards Lyara, and she moved forward to look inside. Amongst the rubble, was a small scroll. She picked it up and looked at the dragon for further instruction.

‘Read the scroll at the Time-wound, _Dovahkiin_.’

She unrolled the scroll, but looked over at Farkas before looking at the script. He had finally lowered his sword, but he still looked alert and on edge. He nodded to her, to let her know that whatever she had to do, she should do it. Not knowing what was going to happen next, she sent him a look that she hoped signified how much she loved him. She then bent her head to look at the text.

The writing was in an ancient language, one she did not understand with her eyes, but one her dragon soul instinctively recognised. Her tongue began to form the words and as she did so, the periphery of her vision started to blur. She continued to read as her vision contracted to a small funnel, then the words on the scroll seemed to disappear, and instead all she could see was darkness. She stopped speaking, unable to read any further. Her vision started to expand once again, but as she began to focus, she could see that while she was still atop the Throat of the World, there was a night sky now above her.

Stars were not the only thing that lit the sky, as she could see in the distance countless dragons swooping and expelling their deadly flame. Human voices caused her to turn her head, but she couldn’t move towards them as she found she was rooted to the spot. She saw three warriors walk towards her, a tall muscular Nord male with long red hair and woad on his face, a fierce looking blond warrior maiden, and an older grey haired mage. They were talking about luring Alduin to the mountain top in the hope they could use Dragonrend to defeat the Dragon god. This must be Hakon One-Eye, Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, and Felldir The Old; the ancient warriors who defeated Alduin thousands of years ago.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyara discovers a way to defeat Alduin before meeting the World Eater himself. Their final battle postponed, Lyara tries to enjoy life with her husband and the Companions

Lyara opened her mouth to hail a greeting to the ancient champions, but no words came out. They walked right by her as if she wasn’t there. She then realised that she was just an observer to the events from long ago, and would not be able to participate.

She witnessed the discussion between Felldir and Hakon, after Felldir first suggested they used the Elder Scroll against Alduin. Hakon was against it, convinced that they would win the day with steel.

‘Alduin approaches!’ shouted Gormlaith.

Alduin landed in almost the exact spot that she had left Paarthurnax in her own time, on top of the rocky wall. So huge was the dragon god, that Lyara felt the ground beneath her shake as he landed.  The great beast spoke to them in dragon tongue, disdain evident on his reptilian features. One heave of his wings and he started to ascend. Soon, he would rain down his deathly fire, and the heroes would be crushed.

‘Let those that watch from Sovngarde envy us this day’, cried Gormlaith. ‘ _JOOR ZAH FRUL_ ,’ she shouted. A blue glow seemed to encase the dragon, and with a deafening screech he landed on the clearing where the warriors waited for him.

‘What have you done? What twisted words have you created?’ Alduin screamed, shaking his head. ‘Paarthurnax! My teeth at his neck!’ cursed the great beast.

Lyara was riveted by the scene. Paarthurnax had betrayed Alduin it seems, and he had been the one to teach the humans the Words of Power. The dragon god continued with his threats.

‘But first, you will die in terror, knowing your final fate… to feed my power when I come for you in Sovngarde.’

Lyara was horrified. As she watched Gormlaith and Hakon charging, their swords swinging, she knew that should they die, Alduin would seek out their souls in Sovngarde, and eat them.

Felldir cast spells at the dragon, before joining his two companions in the melee. Their swords were proving to be no match for Alduin’s tough hide. They were causing damage here and there, but nothing fatal.

With a swipe of his large head, Alduin snapped at Gormlaith as she got too close. He clamped his mighty jaws around her middle, and Lyara watched helplessly as Alduin shook the warrior maiden and threw her like a rag doll against the wall. Her body fell in a heap, unmoving. Hakon renewed his attack with increased vigor, but it was evident that they would not succeed. He yelled over to Felldir that perhaps they should use the Elder Scroll after all.

The mage ceased blasting Alduin and pulled out the scroll. In a loud clear voice he begged the Divines to remove the World-Eater. ‘By words older than your own we break your perch on this age and send you out!’

 Alduin shook his head, and roared in denial as the mage continued his incantation. ‘You are banished! Alduin, we shout you out from all our endings unto the last!’ With a brief shimmer of green light, Alduin vanished.

As soon as the dragon disappeared, Lyara’s sight started to shift back to her own time. She felt the familiar large hand of Farkas at her elbow as she teetered, feeling weak and dizzy for a second.

Paarthurnax lowered his head to look at the elf. ‘Did you learn the shout, Dovahkiin?’

Lyara nodded, her strength coming back to her. Her dragon soul remembered the words she had heard Gormlaith shout. ‘Yes, I did. I witnessed the banishment of Alduin.’

Almost as if the very mention of his name had conjured him, a great screech ripped through the air as Alduin appeared above them. Paarthurnax immediately took to the air with a challenging roar, preparing to face his old leader. Lyara recognised the dragon that had attacked Helgen.

‘My belly is full of the souls of your fellow mortals, _Dovakiin_. Die now, and await your fate in Sovngarde,’ threatened the dragon god. Alduin followed his taunts with a belch of flame and molten rocks. Lyara was able to leap out of the way of this blast but was not sure she would be able to avoid another.

‘Use Dragonrend, _Dovakiin._ It is the only way to defeat him,’ cried Paarthurnax as he blasted at Alduin with his own flames.

‘ _JOOR ZAH FRUL_ ’, answered Lyara as she aimed her shout directly at Alduin. With a terrible cry, he crashed from the sky onto the snowy mountain top, and skidded to a halt only feet away from where Lyara and Farkas had taken shelter from his deathly flame. He was surrounded by the strange blue glow, caused by the Dragonrend shout, and it seemed to be keeping him from becoming airborne once more.

Lyara’s heart leapt into her throat in fear as she watched Farkas charge in. The brave and foolhardy Nord was facing a dragon god with nothing more than the ebony sword she had gifted him. Lyara fired a quick succession of arrows at the giant beast’s head, aiming for his eyes. He moved too quickly and her arrows bounced off the impenetrable scales instead.

She quickly flung her bow on her back so that it hung off her quiver, and released the axe at her side. She held it tightly in her right hand, its sharpened edge glinting in the light. In her left hand, she conjured some of her innate magic.

Alduin was a creature of fire, and so Lyara concentrated on the cold and ice that surrounded her. What shot forth from her fingers was not the flame she had used in the dungeons with Farkas, but ice. With a hearty war cry, she charged forward.

Farkas concentrated on attacking at the rear, stabbing and chopping with his sword. The more nimble Lyara distracted Alduin with blasts of ice, and then attacked the weakened points with her axe, while avoiding his snapping jaws. 

‘You will die this day, dragon.’ She heard Farkas taunting him.

‘You are too late, Alduin,’ Paarthurnax shouted from above them. ‘Never again!’

Her axe and ice was doing damage, but it was proving as ineffective as the steel she witnessed being used by the ancient Heroes. Realisation hit her, that in order to effectively battle a dragon, one must use the weapon of a dragon. She unleashed a flurry of shouts.

‘ _FO KRAH DIIN_ ,’ she shouted. A stream of cold ice hit the dragon, making him stagger back and scream in pain.

‘ _FUS RO DA_.’ An invisible force stunned the dragon for a moment.

Alduin reared up, and roared. He seemed to be alarmed that she had managed to attack him so effectively. ‘ _Dovakiin_. You have become strong,’ bellowed the great dragon. ‘But I am Al-Du-In, first born of Akatosh. I cannot be slain here, by you or by anyone else.’

With obvious effort from his large wings, the dragon broke his magical bonds and started to rise. Lyara stepped back, getting ready to dodge more fireballs.

The dragon hovered above, and spoke once more. ‘You cannot prevail against me. I will outlast you… mortal!’ And with that, he flew higher and higher before heading east into the distance

Farkas ran over to Lyara and asked her if she was harmed, his eyes scanning her for signs of injury.  She shook her head, and was relieved to see that he too was safe.  Moved by the tenderness she saw in his eyes, she laid her head against his chest, allowing herself to be held for a moment. How could a man be so large and intimidating be so tender at the same time? She could feel Farkas’ heart beating hard within his broad chest, and its strong steady beat was comforting.

Paarthurnax landed close by. Lyara could see the singed scales where he had suffered the brunt of Alduin’s aerial attacks. The ancient dragon lowered his head to speak to her. ‘You truly have the voice of a _Dovah_. Alduin’s allies will think twice after this victory.’

‘It was hardly a victory,’ Lyara answered sharply. ‘He escaped.’ Lyara felt that the prophecy regarding her fate was futile. Her destiny was to destroy Alduin, yet she had failed.

‘True. But this is not the final victory. Not even the heroes of old were able to defeat Alduin in open battle.’ The ancient dragon’s breath was warm as he moved his head closer. Lyara could feel Farkas tense beneath her, but he made no moves of aggression.

‘Alduin was always arrogant. He took domination as his birth right. This should shake the loyalty of the _Dov_ that serve him,’ said the old dragon, in his slow steady voice.

‘So how do we find him now?’

Paarthurnax thought for a moment. ‘One of his allies could tell us, but it will not be so easy to convince one of them to betray him.’

Lyara had an idea. ‘Dragonsreach in Whiterun was built to house a captive dragon. A fine place to trap one of Alduin’s allies, hmm?’

‘Yes, yes, _Dovakiin_.’

‘But how to get one there?’ she mused.

‘The names of dragons are always three Words of Power. _Paar-Thur-Nax_. By calling a dragon with the Voice, he will hear you wherever he may be. ‘

‘But would he come to us?’ Lyara asked.

‘He is not compelled to, but dragons are prideful by nature, and loath to refuse a challenge. Your voice in particular is likely to intrigue a dragon, after your defeat of Alduin.’

‘Do you know of a dragon we could call?’

‘Yes, I know of one. _Oh-Da-Viing_.  He was a general in Alduin’s army. He will know the location of Alduin’s hideout.’

*

Lyara and Farkas spent another night at the Vilemyr Inn in Ivarstead, then set off just before dawn to Whiterun. By the time they got there it was early evening, and they decided it would be prudent to wait until the next day before going to speak to the Jarl about using the dragon trap.

They dropped off their gear at their house, and after getting changed, they walked through the town to Jorrvaskr. Most of the Companions were in the Mead hall when they arrived, and everyone was happy to see them. Word had gotten around of their nuptials, and Torvar magnanimously decided that a proper celebration was in order. Mead flowed, and songs were sung.  Lyara actually started to forget about some of her burdens, and joined in the celebrations. 

*

After a rather vigorous dance with Torvar, Lyara flopped onto a bench next to Farkas, panting as she was slightly out of breath, her cheeks red from mead and exertion. She smiled at him, and he was pleased to see her enjoying herself.  He leaned over, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

‘You look exhausted after that dance! I guess now that you are an old married woman, you are getting fat and slow.’

Lyara looked at him shocked. The mischievous twinkle in her eye, and the way that one corner of her mouth was turned up, gave away that she knew he was teasing her. ‘Me? Old and fat?’ she sputtered.

‘Ah uh.’ He nodded. ‘It’s embarrassing really, you are not the woman I married,’ he continued with his taunts.  

‘Well, at least you don’t have to sleep with someone who snores like a mill saw!’ she teased back.

‘I do not snore!’ he cried, feigning indignation. ‘You take that back.’

‘Or what?’ she answered, her face challenging him.

‘Or… or… I will have to teach you a lesson.’ Not much of a threat he realised, but he had to say something, as their mock fight was starting to draw a crowd.

Lyara glanced at the onlookers, who started to laugh, and some started to encourage Farkas to go for it. He stood up then, carefully putting down his tankard. ‘Okay… you asked for it,’ he said, and beckoned her towards him with his fingers.

Lyara stood up in front of him, and placed her own tankard next to his, a cheeky smile appearing on her lips. ‘Give me your best shot, wolf boy,’ she replied, and pulled her hands up into fists, ready for a brawl.

Farkas raised an eyebrow in surprise, and then smiled. He liked a good brawl, especially with someone as attractive as his wife. The rest of the Companions started to gather around them cheering.  Farkas pulled his fists up ready, and only just ducked in time to miss her first swing. The crowd cheered them on.

He waited until it looked like she was going to take another swing and he stepped to his right… straight into her left fist. He had fallen for the faint, and her fist bounced off his cheek causing his head to rock back. The impact of the blow wasn’t too hard, but it was enough to make him rub his stubbled jaw, and think that perhaps he had misjudged how easy this would be.

He decided to go on the attack and threw a right-handed punch, getting ready to pull back as soon as he made contact. Lyara dodged backwards, then under his arm and gave him two swift punches in the same spot on his ribs.

‘Oof.’

Her fists caused him to expel air, and it took him a couple of seconds to recover. All the while, Lyara bounced on the balls of her feet, waiting to see his next move. He tried once again to get in a shot, and again she managed to manoeuvre out of the way, and land a punch, this time a right upper cut in his solar plexus. As he doubled over, she dropped an elbow onto the back of his shoulder, and swept a foot into his leg while he was off balance.

The giant Nord tumbled over, and lay there for a second, unable to move having lost his breath as well as his dignity. A cheer rose around the Companions, and Njada leaned forward to help Farkas back up. Once he was back on his feet, he held up his hands, saying, ‘I yield, I yield.’

Aela grabbed a wrist of Lyara’s and raised it up high as the Companions all cheered and laughed. While the wood elf was distracted, Farkas swooped in, lowering his head under her raised arm, and grabbing her round the legs. He stood up and threw her over his shoulder, and was pleased to note her squeal in surprise. She put up a token struggle, but allowed herself to be carried off to cheers and howls from her friends.

Farkas left the revellers, and carried his wife downstairs to his old quarters, and closed the door before throwing her on the bed. He pulled his cotton shirt over his head, and threw it on the floor, a wolfish grin on his face. 

*

Lyara sat up, so that she could run her hand across his chiselled chest, as he knelt one leg on the bed. ‘Wolf boy?’ he asked, referencing the nick name she had called him earlier.

Lyara just grinned and pulled his head down towards her, and claimed her prize. She pulled him down on top of her, and crushed her lips to his as his hands peeled her out of her clothes. Once she was naked, she sat up as he knelt on the bed and returned the favour by untying the laces holding his leather trousers fastened.

There was a significant bulge at the front, and as soon as they were loosened, his hardened member sprang free. It bobbed in front of her, a tasty morsel she could not wait to get in her mouth.  Slipping her mouth gently over the crown, she ran her tongue over the smooth skin. With a slurp, she hungrily sucked it further into her mouth.

Farkas closed his eyes, and groaned in pleasure. He was still knelt on the bed, and steadied himself by putting his arms out against the wall. She was sucking and licking with such enthusiasm, he feared he would not last much longer, so withdrew and tried to push her back down on the bed.

Lyara resisted, instead pulling him down and swinging herself over him. Positioning her entrance over him, he thrust up with his hips and penetrated her roughly.  Lyara gasped at the intrusion, but her arousal soared and flooded her channel.  She felt a small growl growing in the back of her throat, and fought an irrepressible urge to rake his chest hard with her nails.

It occurred to her then that there was a full moon tonight. This was the first full moon since she had been blooded by the circle. Had the time really gone that fast?

*

Farkas’ own wolf could sense hers rising. He was able to control his inner beast and change at will, but a new blood found it difficult to ignore the call of the moon. His own wolf wanted to mark this she-wolf as its own, and he sat up and sank his teeth into her neck. With a low growl, and gentle pressure, his beast claimed her as his mate. He broke the skin, but the pleasure and the pain was enough to send Lyara into the ecstasy of orgasm. Her innermost walls spasming on his cock sent him over the edge, and with his wolf in control, he had to fight the urge to howl.

As she panted on his lap, he looked into her slanted eyes. He licked her chin, and up to her mouth, before sucking her tongue into his. ‘Let’s go for a run,’ he said, with a grin.

‘A run? Do you mean as …’

‘Yes, come on. It’s exhilarating on a full moon. Let’s run together.’

Lyara grinned back at him, and nodded. She could feel the beast inside her clawing its way to the surface, and knew she needed to let it out soon.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyara and Farkas enjoy their wild nature under a full moon. Lyara uses her Dragonborn skills to summon a dragon, and attempts to persuade him to betray Alduin

Farkas threw his trousers back on, but left off his shirt. He threw Lyara her shift and leggings, which she pulled on quickly. It was safer to transform outside the city else they risked being attacked by the city guard. Hand in hand, they ran out of Jorrvaskr giggling like a pair of teenagers.

They walked out of the front gates of Whiterun, followed by strange glances from the guards. They headed off down the road in the direction of the tower where Lyara had fought a dragon shortly after her arrival in Whiterun, which had then led to the discovery of her Dragonborn ancestry.

The tower was ruined and no one was about, so Farkas suggested it would be a good place to leave their clothes. He was out of his trousers in no time, and attempted to fold them, before leaving them on the wall in a heap. Lyara was just as quick in removing her clothes, and once the garments were off, she looked over at Farkas.

A cloud shifted and a ray of moonlight struck him, and Lyara just stared. He looked exquisite in that moment as the moonlight highlighted the slight grey silvering his beard and the way his eyes twinkled, excited about their impending run. The soft light showed off the definition in his muscles, and he looked like he had been carved by Dibella, the goddess of beauty herself. He was a simple man, yet complex in many ways. He always seemed to know exactly what to do or say to make her feel better.

 ‘Are you ready?’ he asked when he saw her looking at him.

‘Yes, my love.’ She watched as he lowered his head, his eyes closed momentarily in concentration. She saw the hair on his body start to darken and thicken. Lyara closed her eyes to do the same, but it was her wolf sensing the proximity of its mate that brought about her change. Once again, she felt the strange sensation of her limbs lengthening, and growing in height. Her naked and lithe legs popped and stretched until she stood in a digitigrade stance. A thick down of chestnut hair covered her lupine form.

In front of her was Farkas’ wolf, still considerably taller than her, and covered in jet black fur. The beast’s chest was broader and deeper than hers. He raised his long snout and sniffed the air, then looked at her with a whine that grew into a playful yip.

For the second time that evening, Farkas had his teeth around Lyara’s neck. She pulled from his grip, and with a mischievous growl she ran off.  Her flight triggered Farkas’ natural instinct to chase, and loping on his two legs, he went after her.

Lyara could smell him catching up, and so dropped to all fours to increase her speed. Racing through the Skyrim countryside was just as exhilarating as Farkas had promised, and what she remembered from her first change.  His larger gait made up the distance between them, and he pounced on her hind quarters bringing her down. He was going at such a pace, he could not stop and crashed into her, and the two of them tumbled in a mass of fur and claws.

They began to play fight, snapping at each other with massive jaws, but pulling short from doing actual harm. Lyara curled her lip in a growl as Farkas stalked around her, trying to get behind her.

Suddenly, there was a disturbance in a bush a short distance away. Lyara sniffed the air, and smelled a deer.  It had stumbled through the forest, but when it caught the scent of the predators, it quickly about turned, and fled through the undergrowth.

Lyara licked her lips and whined at Farkas, who stood up, his large wolf tongue lolled out of his mouth. With a sharp bark, he told her to follow, and the two of them chased after the deer. It wasn’t long before they caught up with the frightened animal, its eyes wide and white with fear. Lyara was driven by blood lust and ignored the creature’s screams as Farkas and she sank their teeth and claws into its tender flesh.

Warm blood rushed over her tongue as she felt the life force leave the animal. Farkas used his sharp teeth to open the animal’s belly, to get at the tender flesh within.  Steam rose from the entrails in the cold night air and they gorged themselves on the sweet meats.

Lyara felt full and happy, so she lay down next to the deer corpse and waited for her mate to finish eating. When he had done, he came over, and tenderly licked the blood off her muzzle as she whined in pleasure.

She could feel her wolf was satiated, and enough of her human self was now in control that she stood up, and after shaking herself a little, started running back towards the tower. Farkas loped alongside her occasionally running close enough to brush his cheek against her fur.

A little distance away from the tower, and Lyara stopped. The transformation back to a human was already underway, and so she waited for it to be over before walking the rest of the way.

By the time they got to the tower to retrieve their clothes, she was quite cold, and Farkas hurried her to get dressed. They made their way back towards the town, stopping first by the river to wash the last of the deer blood from their faces.

They slept that night in their own home, Lyara on her side with Farkas spooned behind her, one arm under her head, the other draped over her ribs. She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

*

The next morning, she strapped herself into her armour while Farkas still slept. When he woke, she was already fully dressed.

‘I am going to go speak with Jarl Balgruuf about using the dragon trap.’

‘Give me two minutes, and I will come with you,’ and he swung his long legs out of the bed.

‘No, it's okay, I can handle this. You rest up.’

Farkas walked over to her, and used one hand to grab her chin firmly and forced her to look at him. ‘I know you can handle it. Evidently, there is very little you can’t handle, but please… allow me to pretend that I'm not completely superfluous. I like being needed, it’s a failing of mine.’

Lyara laughed a little, and agreed. He quickly dressed while she watched appreciatively, part of her regretting they couldn’t go back to bed.

When they later walked into the Great Hall at Dragonsreach, the Jarl was sat on his throne listening to something that his advisor, Proventus, had to say. They stopped their discussion as soon as they saw her approach but Lyara was sure she had heard Ulfric’s name mentioned.

‘My Jarl,’ she said, bowing her head respectfully. ‘I came to ask a boon. I need your help to trap a dragon in your palace.’

‘I must have misheard you,’ the Jarl chuckled. ‘I thought you asked me to help you trap a dragon in my palace’

‘You heard right,’ Lyara answered. She continued before he could protest. ‘You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’

The Jarl spluttered in disbelief.

‘What you are asking for is insane. You want me to let a dragon into the heart of my city?’

‘It’s the only way to stop the dragon attacks,’ she explained.

‘There must be another way. The risk is too great.’

Lyara looked at him earnestly, desperate for him to understand the seriousness of the situation. ‘The threat is worse than you know. Alduin has returned.’ At the mention of the dragon god’s name, she heard several of the guards in the room gasp.

‘Alduin?’ The Jarl whispered in awe. ‘The World-Eater himself? But… how can we fight him? Doesn’t his return mean the end of times?’

‘I am Dragonborn, it is my destiny to stop him.’

The Jarl scratched at his beard in thought. ‘I don’t know about such things, but I know the Greybeards summoned you. That’s good enough for me. I want to help you Dragonborn, and I will. We’re ready when you are.’

Lyara bowed her head once again, in gratitude. She followed the Jarl up some stairs to the right of the throne, then through some large doors that led out to a large open air porch. High above their heads was a giant wooden brace that would come down over the neck of the dragon, trapping it. 

The Jarl and Lyara explained to his guards what was going to happen. They were understandably nervous, and not happy about it, but they were loyal and did what they were told. It was all up to her now.

Lyara drew energy up from her core, and release a shout of the dragon’s name.

‘ _OH DAH VIING_!’

Not sure if it had worked, she held her breath in anticipation. It was only a few minutes more, when she heard the distant sound of large wings beating in the clouds above.

With a deafening screech, Odahviing burst through the clouds and made to land on the porch area.  He landed on the rim of the open air porch, and roared a challenge at the guards who all scattered for cover.

Farkas appeared at her side, his sword in his hand.  They watched as the beast launched back into the air, and fearing an aerial assault, she used the Dragonrend shout to force him to land once again.

Once he was on the ground, she fired a couple of arrows to get the dragons attention. He looked directly at her and menacingly started to walk forwards, ignoring all the others. Lyara ran backwards, drawing the dragon to the back of the porch. Once he was in the right position, she heard the Jarl give the order to release the trap.

It came down fast, and landed directly over the dragon’s neck. The beast thrashed about, trying to get free, and its tail caught a guard that didn’t get out of the way quick enough.

The dragon started shouting in Dragon tongue, at first and then in common.

‘Caught like a bear in a trap! You went to a great deal of trouble to put me in this humiliating position, Dragonborn.’

Lyara wasn’t surprised that the dragon knew who she was. Having spoken to both Paarthurnax and Alduin, she was not going to underestimate the intelligence of these ancient beings.

He lowered his huge head, so that his eye was level with Lyara.

‘No doubt you want to know where to find Alduin?’

‘I want to know where he is hiding,’ Lyara asked the dragon.

‘An apt phrase. One reason I came to your call was to test the power of your _Thu’um_ for myself. Many of us have been begun to question Alduin’s lordship, whether his _Thu’um_ was truly the strongest. ‘

‘So where is he?’

‘He has travelled to Sovngarde to regain his strength by devouring the souls of the mortal dead,' rumbled the dragon.

Lyara looked at Farkas in shock. As far as they new, Kodlak was in Sovengarde. ‘How do I get there?’ she asked urgently.

‘His door to Sovngarde is in a place known as Skuldafn, deep in the eastern mountains. Now that I have answered your questions, will you allow me to go free?’

Lyara considered things, but before she could respond, the dragon had more to say.

‘There is one detail about Skuldafn I forgot to mention. You have the _Thu’um_ of a _Dovah_ , but without the wings of one, you will never reach Skuldafn. I could fly you there… but not while imprisoned.’

Lyara felt that what Odahviing told her was the truth. She would have to fly upon the dragon in order to reach the portal to Sovngarde. She wasn’t ready to go yet. She didn’t imagine there would be anywhere to pick up supplies so she needed to be prepared.

‘I will consider things and come back to you, dragon.’ She turned around, and headed out of the porch, and heard a rattle of chains and a grunt of frustration from Ohdahviing.

*

Farkas had to stride quickly to keep up with Lyara. She marched silently out of Dragonsreach, heading straight for Jorrvaskr. Just before they went through the large wooden doors, Farkas grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. ‘By the nine, Lyara. Say something. What are we going to do?’

‘ _WE_ are going to do nothing. I am going to grab as many arrows as I can carry, then head back and fly that dragon to Skuldafn.  I am doing this one alone, Farkas.’ There was an edge to her voice, and he was confused as to where it had come from.

‘What? Don’t think for a second you are going alone against Alduin,’ he responded angrily.

‘I AM going alone Farkas, and that’s final!’ She shouted at him.

*

When she saw the pain in his eyes, she regretted being so harsh, and continued, but much quieter this time. ‘Don’t you get it Farkas? I need to travel to the Underworld, to Sovngarde. This is a one way trip, and I'm not taking anyone with me.’ She pushed through the doors, leaving him stood on the step outside Jorrvaskr, his mouth open in shock.

She went to the small armoury store the Companions held, and fitted as many arrows as she could into her quiver. She tested the string on her bow. It was nice and tight. She unclipped the axe from her belt and ran a finger across the edge. Nice and sharp. She thought about eating, but didn’t really have the stomach for it, so shoved some dried meat into a pocket for later. Feeling completely unprepared, but as ready as she was ever going to be, she headed back upstairs hoping to find Farkas and apologise… and say goodbye.

When she got to the mead hall, many of the Companions were sat around the fire pit. She saw Farkas waiting by the main doors, his arms crossed and a determined look on his face. Stood next to him was Aela who looked equally determined.  As Lyara approached, Aela turned to her.

‘There is no point arguing with us, sister. Farkas has explained what you have been doing, and what you have yet to face, and not even the Divines could keep me from your side.’ Lyara looked at Farkas. His eyes sad but resolute. He reached for her hand, and she allowed him to take it, though she was mad at him.

‘I understand the consequences,’ he said softly. ‘But I promised to spend the rest of my life with you, and it is one I intend to keep. Even into the afterlife.’

Lyara stepped towards him wordlessly, and let him put his large arms around her. ‘If Farkas is going, then I insist on going also,’ came a voice behind her.

Lyara turned, a little surprised to see that the offer of help had come from Vilkas. He looked a little remorseful, and opened his mouth as if wanting to say more, but didn't know where to start.

'I would be glad of the company,' Lyara interrupted. He smiled awkwardly, and gratefully just nodded. Coming from Vilkas, that was almost a compliment.

‘I'm coming also,’ said Ria. Lyara could tell by the way the young Imperial woman looked at Vilkas, there would be no arguing with her. Lyara thought she had better get them all to Dragonsreach before anymore of the Companions volunteered. 

Part of her felt incredibly guilty at allowing her friends to join her in certain death, but selfishly, part of her was relieved to have them there. As they made their way through the door leading out to the porch in Dragonsreach, the Companions gasped at the site of the dragon Odahviing. 

*

Farkas felt smug as he was the only one that didn’t utter some kind of expletive, but then he had faced Alduin by Lyara's side, and conversed with Paarthurnax. A dragon safely captured in a trap held no fear for him. Well, not much.

He watched his wife approach the dragon to strike the deal–-freedom for a ride. His chest swelled with the pride as he watched her fearlessly approach the dragon like an equal. When he first realised she intended leaving him behind, his heart had broken. In hindsight, he was now able to feel awe at her bravery. She had been willing to go up against a god by herself. As much as he didn’t relish the thought of his own demise, there was no way that he would have let her face this trial alone.

‘Have you reconsidered my offer, _Dovakin_?’

‘I will set you free if you promise to take my friends and I to Skuldafn,’ Lyara told the dragon.

‘It is wise to recognise when you only have one choice,’ Odahviing replied in his slow and steady voice. ‘Alduin has proven he is unworthy to rule. I go my own way now. Free me, and I will carry you to Skuldafn.’

Lyara turned to her left, and nodded at a guard who was stood near the lever that would release the trap.  The trap lifted, and as soon as it did, Odahviing reared on his back legs and roared. For a moment, Lyara thought the dragon would renege on the deal and fly away, but he landed in front of her, and lowered his head.

‘Are you ready to see the world as only a _Dovah_ can?’


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyara and her Companions travel to Skuldafn, the entrance to Sovengarde aback a dragon. They are joined by legendary heroes and they face the devastating final battle with Alduin, the World Eater.

Lyara hauled herself onto the dragon's neck and sat behind the great horns on his head. Farkas followed her, then Aela, Vilkas and lastly, Ria. Odahviing took a few steps to the edge of the porch, and then with a mighty push from his powerful back legs he leapt into the air. For a split second, he seemed to drop, but then his wings caught the air and with a few strokes he soared high above Whiterun.

Lyara was grateful she hadn’t just eaten, as she feared she may have lost anything undigested.  As they swooped up, she felt Farkas hold onto her so tightly, she knew she would have bruises later.

Odahviing did not lie about the view. Soaring high above the terrain below, Lyara was able to grasp how beautiful Skyrim was, and developed a greater understanding of why the Nords defended it so passionately.

The high altitude had a coldness about it, and the horned rim of Odahviing’s head afforded little protection from the atmosphere. However, the advantage was that an impossible journey of a distance that would have taken weeks on foot, was over in half an hour.

They landed at the entrance to a complex of stairs and platforms carved into the side of a mountain, which they would have to navigate to gain entrance into the temple.

‘This is as far as I can take you,’ said the dragon as the Companions climbed off his neck. ‘I will look for your return… or Alduin’s.’ He added, as he took to the air.

The Companions cautiously headed into the complex, keeping an eye out for any allies of Alduin’s that may be patrolling the area. They headed in the direction of some large stairs they saw leading to a set of enormous doors. At the top of the stairs they came across some Draugr, reanimated ancient Nord corpses that were guarding the doors. Their magic came in the form of blasts of cold but Lyara hung back with Aela and fired arrows with deadly precision while Farkas, Vilkas and Ria slashed at them with their swords, blocking the worst of the blasts with their shields. The team worked well together, and their enemies proved little obstacle.

Once inside the temple they met several more draugr, but these revenants faced the Companions, a group of skilled warriors, and their old bones and magic was simply no match. The final door had to be unlocked with a key, which they wrested from the body of a dead draugr.  When they opened the door, they saw a long walkway, at the end of which was a being unlike anything Lyara had ever seen before.

Aela gasped. ‘A Dragon Priest,’ she whispered.

Lyara had read about Dragon Priests in one of the books in Kodlak’s room. Ancient priests of the dragon cult, they were given powers by the dragons, and once ruled over mankind as kings. The priest stood with his back to them in front of a swirling portal, presumably the entrance to Sovengarde.

Lyara turned to the Companions, and whispered. ‘I think this situation calls for stealth, rather than brute force.’ She looked at Farkas, then Vilkas. ‘By the time you get close enough, he will have closed the portal, and probably killed you. Leave this one to me.’

They all nodded in agreement, and hid out of sight. Lyara crept through the door, as silent as the dead that lined the temple. When she was in range, she quietly nocked an arrow and let it loose. Before the first one had even hit, she had a second one in place. She breathed out, aimed, and fired again.

Two arrows now stuck in the back of the priest causing him to stagger. He was severely wounded, but far from finished. Lyara hid quickly behind a pillar and felt a definite drop in the temperature as the priest prepared his magic. She quickly darted from behind her hiding place, and fired another two arrows in quick succession. The power of her shot was enough to knock the weakened lich backwards. She took the opportunity to run forward, nocking another arrow as she ran.

Lyara stood over the priest just long enough for him to look her in the eye. She fired an arrow straight through his forehead, causing the majority of his skull to explode. Shaking brain matter off her boot, Lyara whistled to the others the coast was clear. They joined her quickly, and the five of them stood and looked down into the portal.

A few feet below them was a swirling vortex that led to Sovngarde, the realm of Shor, the world of the dead.

‘Er … what now?’ asked Farkas. 

The Companions looked to Lyara for the answer. ‘I guess we… just jump in.’ she answered.

‘I don’t mind saying I am afraid, my Harbinger,’ muttered Aela. ‘But if you think we should jump, then I have faith that you are right.’

Farkas grabbed Lyara’s left hand, so Lyara grabbed Aela’s with her right. Aela in turn grabbed Ria’s and she grabbed Vilkas. On a nod from Lyara, they all stepped off the ledge into the vortex. Lyara felt like she had only dropped a few feet, when she hit hard ground. The rest of the Companions landed next to her.

Ahead of them lay a path that led down a few stone steps, then through some grassland. Lyara led the way, not quite sure where it would take them. As they progressed, they found themselves caught in a thick mist and Lyara found it difficult to keep her eye on the path. ‘Keep close. I don’t want to lose anyone in this mist.’

There was the unmistakable roar of a dragon somewhere up ahead, and it caused Lyara’s blood to run cold as the Companions froze in their tracks. She glanced up, but could not see anything other than the damned mist.

‘Look!’ exclaimed Farkas by her ear.

She looked where he pointed, and ahead of them on the path was the dark outline of a figure moving towards them. It looked vaguely human shaped, and as it got closer, they were able to see it was a Stormcloak soldier. The shade approached them, and Lyara asked, ‘Who are you?’

‘The troop I was with marched, unsuspecting, into an Imperial trap. We stood and fought until dawn’s light, but I never knew if night’s end brought victory--a swift-flying arrow to Sovngarde carried me. I got lost in the mists trying to find Shor’s hall.’

‘What is this mist?’ asked Aela. 

There was another roar above them, much closer this time. ‘The World-Eater waits within the mist! He devours the souls of the lost!’ With that, the soldier ran off and was quickly out of sight.

The Companions continued carefully along the path, and after crossing a small brook, they came to a large set of stone steps that rose up out of the mists. Lyara could make out the dark shape of a large building in the distance that had to be the Hall of Valor that Kodlak had spoken to her of. She wondered if he was in there somewhere.

She decided that they should enter the hall and seek advice or assistance within. At the top of the stairs, there was a bone bridge that spanned a great ravine and led to the Hall’s entrance, however, blocking their way was a large Nord. In fact, he wasn't just large, he was enormous.

He was much taller than anyone in the group, even Farkas. He wore a wide belt with a fur and leather kilt. His colossal muscular chest was bare and well developed, and Lyara couldn’t help raising her eyebrows in appreciation. His arms were huge, each one thicker than Lyara’s waist. He had shoulder length brown hair that framed a handsome face with bright intelligent blue eyes. A golden torc lay around his tree trunk sized neck.

He was not behaving aggressively, but Lyara assumed he was some kind of guard, and approached with caution. ‘What brings you to wander here, in Sovngarde?’ asked the gigantic Nord.

‘I pursue Alduin, the World-Eater, and seek entrance into the Hall of Valor.’

‘No shade are you as usually passes here, but living. You dare the land of the dead. By what right do you request entry?’

‘By right of birth,’ answered Lyara. She stood as tall and proud as she could, and said, ‘I am Dragonborn.’

‘Ahh it has been too long since last I faced a doom-driven hero of the dragon blood. I am Tsun. Living or dead, by decree of Shor, none may pass this perilous bridge ‘til I judge them worthy by the warrior’s test.’

 _The warrior’s test?_ thought Lyara. _That doesn’t sound good_. _Surely this immense immortal isn’t expecting me to fight him?_ The giant reached on his back and pulled forward a giant two-handed axe.

 _Obviously, he does_ , she thought wrily. She quickly thought it through. He wasn’t trying to kill her, he was just testing her strength and ability, much like Vilkas had done the first day she had turned up looking for a place in the Companions.

‘Do not interfere. This is my fight alone.’ she said to the Companions. Farkas didn't look happy about it, but he gave her a small nod to acknowledge that he agreed.

With a slight hint of a smile, Tsun started to edge towards her. Lyara released a shout that caused an invisible force to push Tsun back. This gave her enough distance to fire a few arrows, but the arrows bounced off his bare flesh as if he was made of stone.

She decided to use another shout. A jet of flame shot from her mouth, and she was pleased to see the immortal flinch. She quickly followed it with a blast of cold air, then swung her axe at him with all her strength.

Tsun blocked it, then lowered his weapon.

‘You fought well, Dragonborn. I find you worthy. It is long since one of the living has entered here. May Shor’s favour follow you and your errand.’

And with that, without another word, he turned and walked back towards the bridge. Lyara beckoned to her waiting friends, and they jogged across the bridge up to the doors of the Hall of Valor.

She looked at the faces of her friends as she pushed open the tall doors, reverence evident on their faces. This is the place all Nords hoped to spend the eternity of their afterlife, but Lyara imagined none of them had expected to be here quite so soon.

When they went through the doors, the bright warm light from within caused her to squint a little after the gloom of the mists outside. A few steps led to a large mead hall with a vast ceiling that soared high above them. Large windows would have offered a spectacular view over Sovngarde, had it not been for the mists.

A huge table was laden with food, wine and mead, and two fat hogs roasted on a large spit over the fire pit. Lyara could see many Nords wandering around the Hall, some eating, some sparring, and others seemed to just be contemplating their perpetuity.

At the bottom of the stairs, a large older Nord turned as they walked down. He had long blond hair, and was wearing ancient style armour, a mix of steel, leather and fur. His face looked familiar, but it wasn’t until she got closer that she recognised him from his statue that stood guard over his tomb. This was Ysgramor, one of the first Nords to land in Tamriel. After the native Snow Elves destroyed the early settlers, Ysgramor formed the army known as the Five Hundred Companions, the start of the guild that still operated today, although in much smaller numbers.

‘Welcome Dragonborn,’ hailed the legendary leader. His keen eyes scanned the Companions in front of him. ‘It is good to see that the Companions are still made of the finest men and women of Tamriel. You all do honour to my legacy.’

Lyara glanced at Farkas. Ysgramor was a hero to the Nord people as a whole, but she knew that he had a personal fondness for the creator of the Companions, and considered him the greatest of heroes. She could not help but smile at the wonderment on his handsome face.

‘Our door has stood empty since Alduin first set his soul snare here,’ Ysgramor said, his voice serious. ‘By Shor’s command we sheathed our swords and ventured not into the vale’s dark mist. But three await your word to loose their fury upon the perilous foe. ‘

He turned his head, and indicated towards a group of three warriors. Lyara recognised them immediately as the three heroes she had seen defeat Alduin in her vision.

She thanked Ysgramor, and made her way over to them, the rest of the Companions following as they stared around at their miraculous surroundings. As they passed the large dining table, a fierce looking warrior stood up and spoke to them.

‘Seek you food, or song unending? Fighting, drinking, fellowship or boasting? Find welcome here, and warm your soul.’

Lyara nodded thanks, and continued towards the three heroes who now stood waiting for her. ‘Honoured comrades,’ Lyara called to them. ‘I seek my destiny and the life of Alduin World-eater. I would welcome your assistance in this endeavour.’

‘For a hundred lifetimes my heart has burned for the revenge on Alduin too long delayed,’ said the valiant Hakon as she approached. 

Felldir joined them. ‘Alduin escaped us long ago. Today we take our well-tempered revenge,’ the mage added grimly.

Lastly, the fearless Gormlaith spoke up. ‘The endless wait gives way to battle. Alduin’s doom, his death or ours!’

‘Hold comrades,’ cautioned Felldir. ‘Let us counsel take before battle is blindly joined. The mists thwart our attack, but with four Voices joined, we can blast the mist and bring him to battle.’

‘Felldir speaks wisdom,’ agreed Hakon. ‘The World-Eater, coward, fears you Dragonborn.’

Gormlaith unsheathed her sword and shouted a battle cry.

‘To battle, my friends! The fields will echo with the clamour of war, our wills undaunted.’

Lyara shared a look with Farkas and the other Companions. Roused by Gormlaith’s words, they all looked eager to join the fray. The group jogged out of the hall, and across the bone bridge. As they passed Tsun on the stairs leading to the edge of the fields, he gave them a blessing and watched with his serious eyes, but made no move to join them.

‘The eyes of Shor are upon you this day. Defeat Alduin, and destroy his soul-snare.’

The mist swirled around them, and she could hear Alduin calling. He seemed close, but first, they needed to remove the mist. Lyara used a shout meant to clear the skies. The heroes joined her, and their combined _Thu’um_ cleared away the mist.

They heard Alduin speak in the language of dragons, and to their dismay, the mist returned.

‘Again as one! Alduin fears us,’ cried Felldir.

‘ _LOK VAL KOOR_!’ Once again, Lyara and the heroes used their shout to clear the skies, but Alduin used his magic to bring back the mist.

‘Does his strength have no end? Is our struggle in vain?’ Hakon shouted desperately.

‘Stand fast!’ answered Gormlaith. ‘His strength is failing! Once more, and his might will be broken.’ In her increasing frustration, Lyara hoped Gormlaith was right. For a final time, they combined their shouts and Sovngarde was visible once again, and this time the mists did not return.

The enemy flew towards them, screaming his frustration. Lyara immediately let forth the Dragonrend shout. Alduin was forced to land, and was instantly under attack from the brave Companions and heroes. Aela and Lyara fired rapid volleys of arrows, and Ria and Gormlaith played a dangerous game trying to distract Alduin, while the twins and Hakon attacked at the rear. Felldir stood at the edge of the frey, uttering strange incantations.

Alduin was getting more ferocious as he realised that he was actually under threat, and used his remaining magic to bellow a great jet of flame at his aggressors. Lyara watched in horror as Ria was caught in the deadly blaze. She fell to the ground, her skin a horrific mixture of black and red. Remnants of her armour smouldered and crumbled away. Aela and Lyara dashed to her aid, as Alduin spun around to attack the warriors annoying his rear.

Lyara was concerned for Ria. It didn’t look good for the young Companion. She didn’t have time to heal her as she knew they could not let up the attack. Distracted by her concern for Farkas, who along with his brother and Hakon was trying to stab the beast while avoiding the snapping jaws, Lyara didn’t notice the dragon’s tail as it swept towards her from behind Aela. Before she had an opportunity to warn her shield-sister, it smashed into the Huntress’s arm, breaking the bone in several places.

This had to end, thought Lyara. Now.

Lyara picked up Ria’s sword, and ran alongside the weakening dragon. Gaining some speed, she vaulted up behind the giant dragon’s head. Unfortunately, she didn’t get a secure enough hold before Alduin began to violently shake his head, trying to dislodge the wood elf. Against the odds, Lyara managed to hold on, and climb higher on his neck, but unfortunately she dropped her sword.

*

Farkas saw her run and leap onto Alduin’s back. His heart in his mouth, he knew what she intended to do, and for a second, thought she would succeed, but he saw her drop the sword as she struggled to keep hold. Once she had a more secure position, he ran dangerously to the dragon, and shouted her name.

*

‘Lyara!’   
  
The wood elf looked down at her husband, and saw him throw her his sword and she reached an arm out to catch it. While flying on the neck of Odahviing, she had noticed that directly behind the horns that spanned the rim of the dragon’s skull, was a patch of skin unprotected by scales. A weak spot.

As the sword left Farkas's hands, Alduin roared in frustration, and swung his huge muzzle straight into Farkas, sending the big Nord flying.

Farkas’ weapon was a large two-handed sword and Lyara mustered all her strength to wield it. She stood up, and with exquisite balance stood on the spine of the dragon. She drove the sword down as hard as her tired muscles were able.

The sword punctured the thick leathery skin and Alduin bellowed in agony. With a final grunt, Lyara put all her weight on the sword, and prayed to Shor that they would win this day. The blade sank to the hilt, penetrating under the edge of the beast’s skull, straight into his brain.

Alduin was defeated. With a final blood-curdling roar, his massive lifeless corpse fell with a resounding thud, throwing Lyara off to the side. She was winded for a moment, but after gasping a great lungful of air, she noticed she had landed only feet away from Farkas.

She called to him, but he didn’t answer. Dread turned her blood cold, when she noticed that his eyes were open and staring blankly up at the sky. Tears already forming in her eyes, she scrambled towards her love, and reached him seconds after Vilkas.

As she dropped to her knees at his side, she heard Vilkas cry out in grief that his brother was dead.


	16. Chapter 16

As Alduin’s corpse started to glow and disintegrate, Lyara was struggling to comprehend what was happening. _How can Farkas be dead? He can't be dead? She needed him._

All the pain, heartache and grief she had ever experienced in her life all rose to the surface. All the frustration of being given a destiny instead of choosing one, anger at being ignored by her grandparents, sorrow of never knowing her mother and father, and now losing her husband – the whirlpool of emotion loosed itself in an almighty wail. A blast of energy left her body, as if her dragon soul had transformed her grief into a unique Word of Power.

Time seemed to slow down, then freeze. She noticed that none of her comrades were moving. The slight breeze that stirred the grass of Sovngarde was still, and not a thing, alive or dead, moved except her.  A pale mist appeared in the periphery of her vision, out of which walked a golden dragon. Alduin had been larger than any other dragon she had seen, but this one was far greater still.

She knew instinctively this was no ordinary dragon. This had to be Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time, the highest amongst the Nine Divines, father to Alduin, and the creator of all things.

‘Your destiny is fulfilled, _Dovakiin_ ,’ said the golden god. ‘Alduin has been banished to the ends of time to fulfill his destiny, just as you have fulfilled yours.’

‘Then send me there too, for my world has ended,’ she cried, irreverent in her grief.

‘I grieve too, _Dovakiin_. Alduin was a child of my blood, as are you. I cannot grant you a boon, but you may ask one of the other Divines.’

Lyara sniffed back her tears, and tried to remember the lore she had read from Kodlak’s office, regarding the Nine. ‘I ask then for Arkay, the god of birth and death.’

A middle aged man with long flowing hair and a great grey beard walked out of the mist to stand next to Akatosh. He leant on a tall staff, and wore robes that flowed down to the floor. He was almost as tall as the dragon, and towered over Lyara.

‘What boon would you request from the Mortal’s God, Mer?’

‘I beg of you to stay death’s hand and return my love to me,’ she implored him. She looked down at Farkas’ still body, a tear running down her face to land on his cheek.

The stern god looked down at her. ‘Why should I do this? I am he that brings every man and woman, Nede, Mer, Khajit and Argonian into the world, and only when I deem the time is right do I end their circle of life and death.’

‘If you cannot grant me this wish, then take my life so that I may join him in his honoured position in the Hall of Valor, for he was the most valiant of men,’ she sobbed.  Her grief slowly turned to anger. Reckless and uncaring of the consequences, she stood and faced the god, and stared at him defiantly.

‘You owe me this favour. I have played my part, I have done the gods’ work, and because of that my husband is dead.’

A third figure appeared out of the mist. Through her tear-stained vision, Lyara recognised her face as that of the effigy she saw at the Temple of Mara, where she and Farkas were married. The goddess Mara looked young, and more beautiful than anyone Lyara had ever seen. She laid a hand gently on the older man’s shoulder.

‘My dear son,’ the goddess addressed Arkay. ‘For the love you have for your mother, grant the request of this mortal whose heart swelled with joy and love as she married the man who now lies broken at her feet.’

Lyara held her breath, awaiting a response. Arkay nodded, and with a bang of his staff on the ground, he turned and headed back into the mists, along with Mara. Before they faded from her vision, the goddess looked back and smiled at her.

Akatosh too turned his colossal form, and walked towards the mist. ‘We will meet again _Dovakiin_ , when you return to Sovngarde.’

He faded from her sight, and time seemed to start moving again. She gasped in shock as a small moan escaped Farkas. He lifted his arm to wipe her tears from his cheek, before looking up at Lyara’s face.

‘Why are you crying?’ he asked. Lyara once again cried out, but this time in joy.

Vilkas too was thanking the Divines, and looked at her gratefully. ‘I don’t know what you did, but thank you,’ his voice hoarse with emotion.

Lyara clutched at Farkas, who winced in pain. She realised then that the gods had brought him back, but not healed him. She could do something about that.

She wasn’t trained in the restoration arts, but had enough knowledge and innate magic to heal, although it was costly in energy. It had to be enough, she told herself. She placed her hands gently on his chest, and concentrated. Warmth ran through her and a slight golden glow emanated from her fingers. Once she was confident he was healed, she tried to stand so that she could help the others.

Exhaustion caught up with her, and the effort of healing was putting further physical strain on her already depleted resources. Vilkas told his brother to lie still, and gently helped Lyara to her feet. He supported her as she walked towards Aela and Ria.

Lyara looked at Vilkas, seeing a completely new side of him. Her heart went out to him when she saw the anguish on his face at the state of Ria. It seemed that the obvious feelings Ria had for her husband’s twin were reciprocated. Ria was whimpering in agony. Her breath hitched in with a horrible gasping sound. Alduin’s flame had not only damaged her outside, but internally as well.

Lyara placed her hand carefully on the crisp blackened skin, and concentrated again. She gave as much as she could, and when she opened her eyes, Ria’s skin was no longer charred and burnt, but clear and healthy if still a little pink.

She then reached for Aela’s arm, but when her friend saw the dark circles that had appeared under the wood elf’s eyes, she insisted she was fine. Lyara ignored the bravado, and with Vilkas supporting her, she used the last of her strength to heal her shield-sister’s arm, before collapsing and passing out.

*

Lyara awoke, unsure of how much time had passed. She was surprised to find herself lying in her own bed in Whiterun, cradled by Farkas. She later found out that Tsun had sent them back.

When Farkas saw her eyes open, he stroked her hair.

‘Nice to see you, dear.’ She reached up a hand to cup his cheek, as she smiled weakly. He smiled back at her, love and relief shining from his eyes so brightly that it chased away any tiredness, like the darkness fleeing the sun.

‘I thought I had lost you,’ she croaked.

He looked at her earnestly, before placing a gentle kiss on her lips. ‘You are my whole life,’ he said as he held her gaze.  ‘Wherever I am, I will always find my way back to you.’


	17. Epilogue

Karia hit the post harder and harder with the wooden sword her father had made her. She would have liked a real one, but she was only four, and her mother said she couldn't have a metal blade until she was at least eight.

She saw the familiar figure of her father come through the city gate, having finished working for the day at his carpentry workshop he had over near the stables. All thoughts of being a warrior left her head, and she ran over to him as fast as her little legs could carry her. Once she reached him he swooped her up and sat her on his shoulders. She squealed in delight, and held tightly onto his hair, the same jet black as her own.

Karia’s father lifted her off his shoulders so that he could duck through the front door to the inn that his wife ran. The inn, once known as The Drunken Huntsman, was now called Stormblade having been renamed when they took over the business. It was named in honour of the nickname his wife was given by Ulfric when she helped him and his Stormcloaks defeat the Imperials some five years earlier.

He saw his wife sat in a corner by the fire restringing a bow. 

‘Mama!’

Lyara looked up when her daughter cried out, and smiled when she saw her husband. She stood up to greet him and he bent a little so that he could kiss her tenderly, as he ran his broad hand slowly over her swollen belly.

‘Uck,’ said Karia. ‘You two are always kissing,’ she moaned.

Farkas ruffled his daughter’s hair and they both laughed at the disgust showing in her large ice blue eyes. Lyara suddenly winced, and doubled over. Farkas was immediately worried, and went to ease her back to her chair. She shook her head, and asked him to take her upstairs.

He picked her up effortlessly, and ordered his daughter to follow them. He carried his wife to their living quarters upstairs, and laid her gently onto her bed.

Lyara smiled through the pain, and tried to alleviate the concern evident on her husband’s face. ‘I'm fine, Farkas, but it may be time for you to go fetch Tilma. I think your son wants to come say hello.’

Farkas was shocked, and immediately thrown into a blind panic. He picked up his daughter and ran out of the inn to their old house across the street. It was now lived in by Ria and his brother Vilkas. He knocked at the door, which was answered by Ria, holding her six month old baby boy.

‘It’s time, Ria, I need you to look after Karia for us.’

‘Of course!’ Farkas kissed his daughter on the head, and placed her small hand in Ria’s.

‘Good luck,’ Ria called after him as he ran towards Jorrvaskr to fetch Timla.

*

Several hours later, Lyara woke from a short nap. She looked to her left where her husband sat snoring in a chair, their daughter curled asleep in his lap, her small hand wrapped around one of his large fingers. 

She sat up carefully and peered into the crib her husband had made, that was between the bed and the chair. In it, her new son lay peacefully, sleeping off the exertion of being born. She hoped that he would grow up to be as tall and as handsome as her husband, and have his black hair and ice blue eyes.

She had decided to name him Kodlak, in honour of the man who was the closest thing her and her husband had ever known as a father.

 

THE END.

 


End file.
